


I'm Her Wife

by Strega_VonDrachen



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Drama & Romance, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Homophobia, Hospitalization, Land Without Magic (Once Upon a Time), Mutual Pining, Original Character(s), Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-10-06 03:34:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 48,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20500199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strega_VonDrachen/pseuds/Strega_VonDrachen
Summary: Following the tragic events of their failed mission to the Underworld, Henry convinces his mothers that they need a chance to unwind, to find themselves and their happiness once more, and proposes that they all go on a vacation. Together.Far from Storybrooke, and the oppressive opinions of people who would claim to know them best, the trio find a little fun adventure may be just what the doctor ordered. But at what cost?Truths, long since buried, are inevitably revealed. Because true love, like a sneeze, cannot be easily concealed.





	1. Where Are We Going?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [River View [fanart]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20499683) by [Jajs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jajs/pseuds/Jajs). 
  * Inspired by [I'm Her Wife [Art]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20499506) by [rexinasofia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexinasofia/pseuds/rexinasofia). 

> ******COVID-19 UPDATE****  
The wifey and I are both currently unemployed. Though stressed and angry with, you know, pretty much everything going on, I'm officially back to finishing the ending. My life is a mess and so am I. Thank you, everyone, for your love and continued patience. Be safe. Be healthy. Final chapters ARE coming soon.**
> 
> **************DISCLAIMER************  
**  
*****STORY UNDER RENOVATION.***  
**  
I regret to admit that, in my pursuit of the perfect Swan Queen story, I had a last minute burst of inspiration and decided to chase my muse against my better judgement. This story is NEARLY DONE but, as of now, remains INCOMPLETE, past chapter 6. You are free to read on anyway, nothing can stop you, but the last three chapters are currently unavailable until alterations are done. Which, I can say with confidence, will be soon. If you want to fully enjoy this labor of love (and I would hope so) I HUMBLY request that you return later, when all is finished. Go read some of the other AH-MAZING (and more appropriately completed) Supernova stories in the meanwhile. There are some real gems out there! My most sincere apologies to both my betas and my artists and anyone else who was hoping to read this now and not later. I'm racing to wrap it up. Blame my inexperience and anxiety. I did the best I could. But I think you're gonna love what's coming.  
*************MORE SOON TO COME*************  
**  
******SERIOUSLY. GO READ SOMETHING ELSE****  
**  
**********COME BACK LATER. THX BYE**********  
**  
**\----------END OF DISCLAIMER------------ ********
> 
> **I was inspired about two years ago by a beautiful Swan Queen AU gifset made by tumblr user dianamedgar (seen here: https://dianamedgar.tumblr.com/post/88321011227/swan-queen-week-day-two-fake-relationship-emma) and started writing the story almost immediately. Then life and various other depressions hit me, and I was almost certain I would never finish the project. I would like to thank my friends and Beta-readers Waknatious and Shadowdianne, as well as a handful of others (you know who you are!), for pushing me to FINALLY make this envisioned dream a written reality. (It's become SO MUCH MORE than I ever imagined it would be.)**
> 
> **A HUGE thank you to my artists, Rexinasofia and Jajs!!! It's such an honor to see your beautiful work!!**
> 
> **This is easily the biggest story I've ever written, for my first (and probably last) SQ Supernova. I honestly cannot believe I managed to do this. (though, I might have bitten off more than I could responsibly chew... lol) I would like to thank Google Earth, for helping me map previously unexplored terrain, and especially thank my lovely fiancée Danielle for being an inspiration as well as impossibly patient throughout the whole creative process. I could not have done this without you, babe. Love you forver! xoxo  
  
I hope you all enjoy this labor of love. (Fair warning, I'm a bastard when it comes to melodrama and angst, but I promise, this one has a happy ending.) Buon appetito!**

Time is ticking by tediously and the road ahead is long, seemingly endless. The cracked and grey asphalt no longer curves over sloping hills but now slices through dusty, arid and scrub flatland, leading on towards ever distant mountain ridges. Peaks rise and fall against the horizon, jumping like a line of electricity. Like an irregular cardiogram. 

Over an hour remains in the journey; they’re not yet halfway there. Already the summer sun is beating down, blindingly bright in a cloudless sky, far from approaching its zenith. So early, the ranch might even still be serving breakfast.

Regina’s stomach rolls with hunger at the thought, then again with nausea, filling to the brim with a new wave of cold anxiety. She looks around the open sky, free now from the towering trees, forcing herself to breathe evenly and ease through the rising panic. 

She hasn’t been able to spy the helicopter in over twenty minutes, not since leaving the village. _ “A good thing,” _ she thinks.  _ “Make record time. Get there long before I do.” _

Accelerating, she sends the little blue rental car faster along the highway, her body pressing deeper into her seat. She bypasses a minivan, sliding swiftly into the left lane and around it, pushing faster once ahead. A narrow bright green route sign flashes into view, reflective silver letters that read “Flagstaff 54.” She angrily adjusts her visor, shielding herself from the glare. Her eyes begin to burn. Tears are finally starting to form, slipping out and sliding slowly down her cheeks as she laments her lost sunglasses. Of all things.

Shock has not allowed her to feel much else.

“...Speed limit, Mom,” Henry reminds quietly from the back. His voice cracks, like a typical 14-year-old, but it’s strong with courage. He leans forward and puts his hand on Regina’s shoulder. “She’s going to be ok.”

Jaw set, her throat constricting, Regina is unable to swallow. But she nods and lets up on the gas, placing her hand over his and squeezing once before letting go. They will get there when they get there, and she has to just accept that. 

Emma is safe, Regina tries to remind herself. She is stable and in trustworthy hands. Everything is going to be fine. Just fine. 

Regina has no other choice but to believe that. She can’t consider the alternative and continue to drive safely.

*

The trip had initially been Henry’s idea, three months ago, volunteered from the blue without prompting. 

“I think we should go on a vacation.” 

Emma had looked up at Regina, sitting across from her in the corner booth at Granny’s diner, a ketchup-coated french fry halfway to her mouth. Regina, who had been frowning at her salad, startled and broke through the dark clouds of thought where she had been moored. With a glance at Emma, seeing that she was just as surprised by the interjection, Regina turned to her son. 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“A vacation. It’s this thing people do to get away from work and have fun.” 

Regina arched a penciled eyebrow, a warning for the sarcasm he had inherited far too efficiently from her, unable to keep the corners of her lips from quirking in a short smile. “I’m familiar with the concept. But why, all of the sudden?” 

“Why not?” he countered with a shrug, an effort of nonchalance so often displayed by his other mother. “After all that’s happened, don’t you think we’ve at least earned it?” 

A stiff silence fell over the table, broken only by the soft crunch of Emma’s fries as she ate with apparent diversion, eyes focused on her plate but ears pricked, intently listening for Regina’s response. 

Their hellish time spent in the Underworld was only just recently behind them. Both Emma and Regina had lost loved ones, and both women felt intolerably guilty for the whole affair. Neither would openly admit it, of course, but both knew the truth without question. Emma took the blame for Robin personally, no matter how many times Regina insisted that they had all chosen to be there; Emma had ultimately been the one unable to accept the price of her actions. Robin’s death rested securely in her hands and she refused to let that go. As for Hook, Emma could only be grateful Zeus granted him passage to eternal peace for his final deeds. Her guilt would always redouble, to see Regina so dimmed by loss, whenever she found herself becoming too comfortable in his absence. Her grief seemed too small in comparison, her mourning too brief, and Emma couldn’t let Regina’s loss be in vain. 

For Regina, guilt was only one facet of many in the weight she bore around her neck. 

“Earned… might not be the best word, Henry.” 

“How about deserved, then?” He was earnest in his sincerity. Regina opened her mouth, tongue clicking in protest, but he persisted. “I think we all deserve a break. Don’t you, Ma?” 

Emma nearly bit her finger as she stuffed another couple of fries into her mouth. Regina had shifted her gaze across the table, now waiting upon her opinion, staring intently as she slowly chewed. Emma had been the one to suggest Granny’s for dinner, though Henry had pushed her to do it, as an attempt to draw Regina out of her shell just a little bit, to remind her gently that there was life outside of the mansion and the office, and that she wasn’t alone. 

Henry must have either thought things were going very well, or perhaps not well enough, to have decided to push for more. Emma hesitated, avoiding Regina’s eyes, before swallowing with a shrug. Taking another fry, she quipped back, “I dunno, Henry. I don’t think Mayors take vacations.” 

As she had expected, Regina scoffed. “Of course we do.” 

“Well, this one doesn’t,” Emma said to Henry 

“Yes, she does.” 

“Great! So, where are we going?” Emma asked, her grin cheeky. Hopeful. 

“We…” Regina started, and licked her lips before looking to Henry. “Aren’t going anywhere.” 

Both women began to blush and Emma’s smile faltered, her look uncertain.

“Henry,” Regina said softly, putting down her fork and taking his hand. “I know the past few months have been hard, but we can’t simply run away from our problems.” 

“Would it hurt to try?” 

The pain that flashed in Regina’s expression was a clear answer. Emma interceded. “It’s a nice idea, kid, but it might be too soon. You know?” She caught Regina’s glance, and the tender curve of a sympathetic smile, before her dark eyes turned back to her son. 

Sighing, relaxing, Regina shook her head. “I’ll tell you what,” she said, releasing his hand with an assuring pat. “If you can keep your grades as amazing as they are right now, when the summer comes, we’ll go on a trip.” 

“The three of us?” He asked excitedly. 

The silence returned to the table. Not once in that conversation had anyone assumed otherwise, and yet the question sparked a sudden awareness, an uncomfortable closeness, of unacknowledged tension. 

“Why not?” Regina asked, looking intently back to her salad with sudden renewed appetite. She didn’t shrug but the sentiment was there. Emma’s smile glowed.

*

Another sign glares on the horizon, shimmering amid the heat. “Junction 180 ½ Mile” it reads, and Regina’s finger itches for the turn signal. The chance to do something, literally anything, other than continue to stare out into the broad, desolate space ahead feels like release, like another rescue. 

The speed limit shifts, dropping off to 45 mph as the tiny town beside the junction approaches, and Regina groans, reluctant to take her foot even a smidge off of the pedal. She passes old phases of nostalgic Americana, relics of time that mean nothing to her and seem to mock her misery. Cheery billboards for local diners, paint faded and peeling, line the roads. An ostentatious cartoon primitive in orange leopard print advertises Flintstone's Bedrock City RV Campgrounds. She flicks on her turn signal though the road is deserted. 

“Unusual beauty, my ass,” she grumbles. “Why anyone would choose to live out here...” The land is utterly inhospitable, she has determined, and she feels a certain spite forcing her lips into a nasty curl, sneering at the drab reality that would dare insist she yield against her will. The car leans dramatically as she cuts across the open highway lane, turning left and speeding away, watching in her rear-view as the town disappears in the dust behind her. 

The route is new to Regina, purportedly a handful of minutes faster than the one they had previously followed from the airport.

Passing the last remnants of human habitation, the road stretches out through a vast and blue nothing, a sky like turquoise, edges laced with resilient vegetation and shrub far more verdant than would rightly be expected. The unusual beauty is undeniable. Regina, again, has to concede to this fact and tries not to imagine the way Emma might laugh to know how she was proven right. Again.

Henry, Regina can see in her mirror, is still scanning the sky, looking for her, though she is now well and far out of sight. “Think she’s landed yet?” 

“By now, surely.” Regina has no idea. Helicopters are as new to her as airplanes had been. 

There is another car approaching far off in the distance. Regina squints and spies red lights racing up the highway. Several minutes later, the ambulance rushes by them, silent. 

A very dangerous, unusual beauty, this world. 

It is almost enough to make Regina regret it all, and wish they had never left Storybrooke in the first place. Almost.

*

Henry had hardly wasted any time before he began presenting ideas for his dream vacation, clearly confident with his grades. “It’s important to plan ahead, after all.” 

Regina had remained hesitant to the idea but played along anyway, unable to refuse her little prince, and so invited Emma over for lunch the next Saturday to discuss his propositions. Eating caprese sandwiches, the first signs of spring awakening on the other side of the mansion’s garden window, they all chatted lightly and entertained his imagination. 

“We never get to have fun adventures,” he had pointed out, to which both Emma and Regina had snorted. 

“Kid has a point.” 

“Undeniably.” 

Peaceful was all they could ever seem to hope for. Luckily, recent events in Storybrooke had been relatively calm, about as normal as a town run by magic could possibly be. It felt enough like a vacation in it’s own right. Regina though was not one so foolish as to think that would last for very long, and said just as much, and Emma had to agree. 

“But Grandma and Grandpa can run things, can’t they? I mean, they did all right last time.” 

“They did all right at running things into the ground,” Regina smirked, unable to resist the dig. “But I suppose they can’t destroy everything in a week.”

“A week?” Emma asked, a little surprised. 

“Too short?” 

“Yeah, I think so,” Henry answered before Emma could. Her eyes were growing wide. “If we’re gonna travel without magic, we’ll need more time.” 

Regina blinked. “We’ll be taking some magic with us, of course.” Especially if they were going to be in a realm without. “Safety first.” No one blamed her for feeling cautious. Wiping her hands on her napkin, she folded it neatly and redirected the tone, trying a push for optimism. “But... I’m willing for a bit of fun adventure if you are.” Truthfully, she lacked the conviction of her words, but with time perhaps she would feel more inclined. “Anything in particular you had in mind?”

“Camping,” he said without hesitation.

Regina’s brow creased. “Camping,” she said. “As in, on the ground? In a forest?” When Henry had been a child, Regina had often built blanket tents with him in the backyard and they would stay up late together, her teaching him about the stars and planets above. He had never before though expressed a desire to venture into the rustic wild and, after his perilous misadventures in the Neverland jungle, Regina was quite surprised to see him so eager. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather want an adventure at a resort? A famous city? Or some other place with… indoor plumbing?” 

“Is her majesty above such conditions?” Emma asked, teasing boldly; to suggest that she enjoyed the rough outdoors any more than Regina was most certainly a bluff.

“You will recall, I was apparent soulmates with a man who often literally lived in a tree,” Regina deadpanned. Emma cringed a bit, but Regina merely smirked. “Somehow, I think I could manage.” She leveled her gaze, and challenged, “Could you?”

Emma was staring, sandwich all but forgotten on her plate. It was the first time Regina had spoken of Robin without an imminent threat of tears. She almost seemed amused, if one could judge by the light in her eyes and ignore the lingering sadness yet hiding there. A little hope stirred within Emma’s chest. “Only one way to find out.”

“It doesn’t have to be a forest,” Henry offered, watching his mothers, a peculiar light of his own twinkling in his eyes. “Just... somewhere cool, somewhere really epic.” 

“...I might know just the place,” Emma said, smiling slowly. “Been there once before. Nothing else quite like it on this earth.” 

*

The little blue rental eventually enters the quaint and sprawling city at the foot of the mountains, zipping by residents and businesses before getting caught in dense traffic. Regina curses under her breath but manages to keep her temper, even as her fingers clench around the wheel, the leather crackling under her grip. There’s an accident ahead, two cars and a truck. The line of cars behind stretches on and on in a standstill. 

“Henry, see if there is an alternate route,” she says, handing him the GPS. The hospital is just on the other side of the hill, hardly two miles away. She’s so close. She knows she should probably just wait. 

“There’s not another way that I can see,” Henry says, still pushing buttons. “Not at this point.” 

The hair raising echo of sirens rings in Regina’s ears. She watches the vehicle hurtling over the crest of the hill en route to the accident. Her gut twists, an ill and foreboding sense for bad omens. She can’t shake it. And she can’t wait. She can’t stand the waiting. She has to do something and so she pulls off the road into a gas station parking lot. 

Regina considers driving the rental over the concrete barrier between the station and the neighboring McDonald's, accessing the intersecting lane and possibly a way around the jam. She considers against it, but is still sorely tempted. Exhaling sharply through her nose, she parks in front of a fuel pump. “Go inside and see if they sell sunglasses. Please?” She hands him a twenty dollar bill. He understands, kissing the side of her head as he exits and heads for the station. 

Turning off the engine, canceling the cool blow of air that soothes her face, Regina takes a low, shuddering breath and allows herself to cry for a few seconds. And then just another few more. She swallows, her lips pressing together, and dries her eyes. She steps outside into the noise and heat and gasoline fumes and fuels up the car, her breath tightly controlled. 

All she can think of is Emma being where she can’t reach her.

*

“There’s so much we could do!” Henry had exclaimed, scrolling swiftly along the webpage of search engine results. “We could tour the river, go hiking, take a trail ride on a horse…”

Emma shook her head. “There’s no way I’m getting on a horse.” 

Regina had to laugh. It was ludicrous, Emma’s refusal to engage with something that would have otherwise been so entirely natural to a royal princess of the Enchanted Forest, but she supposed she had been rather the one responsible for Emma’s displaced upbringing and so swallowed down her humor, tasting a bitter guilt. “They’re gentle, majestic creatures, dear. It’s not like they want to eat you.” 

Emma rolled her eyes. Her fear was irrational and she knew it, but it couldn’t be helped. “They’re just so… big. And tall. And fast, and-”

“Fine, fine,” she said, looking back to the results. “How about touring by mule, instead?” 

“Not much shorter.” 

“And look,” she said, pointing at a link for Henry to click. “This trip will actually take you all the way down to the bottom with an overnight stay at the Phantom Ranch. Apparently, it’s famous.” Regina sounded a bit dubious about the claim, but nonetheless intrigued. The vintage pictures of log cabins clustered together in a tidy mountain village were uniquely charming. 

“I like the ranch,” Emma said, “but there’s no way in hell I’m switchbacking on a donkey--” 

“Mule.”

“--at ten billion feet up.” 

“They’re well trained, sturdy and stalwart--”

“No.” Emma folded her arms. 

Regina just sighed and pursed her lips, privately vowing to herself to one day get Emma riding and loving it. 

“Well, lucky for Ma,” Henry said, inspecting a calendar of availability, “it seems all rides have been booked until… wow, December.” 

“See?” Emma pointed. “Even fate says no.” 

“And the ranch?” Regina asked, ignoring her. 

Henry laughed. “It’s in such high demand, they had to make a lottery for reservations.” He went back to the results page. “Oooh, but there’s also white water rafting,” Henry said and clicked on another link. “And they do camping trips!” Including one, he pointed out, that would bring them to camp just minutes from the ranch. A day’s visit was guaranteed.

Both his mothers leaned in then, looking over his shoulder at various images of rafters in helmets and sunglasses laughing in the face of spraying water and quite imminent danger. Regina frowned but Emma nodded, grinning. “Now, that looks like fun.” 

Regina made an appalled noise. “As if that’s any safer than riding a horse.” 

Emma glanced at her. “Rapids are a thrill ride, and at least they’re predictable.”

“I don’t understand your rationale. Trolls are predictable but, if pitted against one, I don’t think you would be so thrilled.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not like the rapids are gonna try and _ eat me _.”

Regina scrunched her nose, annoyed to have her words parried back to her. “Idiot.” 

“Well,” Emma shrugged. “If you don’t wanna do it--” 

“I didn’t say that.” Shifting away from Emma, Regina made to take the mouse from Henry, intent on exploring the page for herself, but he waved her off. 

“How about I do the rest of the research, and you all just go… argue somewhere else.” 

Eyebrows lifting, Regina caught Emma’s frowning, pouting expression and chuckled. She sighed and relented. “Very well, as you wish.” Leading Emma from the room, they left their computer genius to his work. “Just nothing too advanced. Search ‘family-friendly’ trips.” 

“Yes, Mom…” Henry droned after her. 

“Hey, um... how exactly are we gonna pay for all this?” Emma later asked as they entered the kitchen, pulling herself a beer from the fridge and offering another one to Regina, who declined. She only kept the beer in stock for Emma.

“Don’t worry about it,” Regina said, reaching for a bottle of wine instead. “There are a few perks to being a royal, after all,” she said and waved her hand over the bottleneck, catching the cork as it popped free. “Having magic helps, too.”

Emma was impressed. “Cool party trick. Teach me that one some time, will ya?” 

Regina smiled as she poured herself a glass. “Just say when.”

*

The traffic is not moving an inch. Regina buys Henry an egg sandwich, herself a cup of scorched and stale coffee, and they wait in the car for the accident to clear. Her new sunglasses are clutched in her hand. They are hideous and she will never wear them but she feels faintly better for having them, even as she stares off at the distant wreck, at the flashing red lights and the blue. Her heart is aching, throbbing in her chest. She fiddles with the thermostat and then the radio, jumping through all available stations before shutting it off. She checks her phone, makes sure that it’s charging, and fights the panic that comes with the lack of missed calls. 

No news could only be good news. 

But, what she wouldn’t trade for just another tiny spark of magic. 

*

“But are you sure you want to sell it?” Regina had asked Emma. “It’s a very... nice house.” 

Setting down the greasy to-go bag from Granny’s on Regina’s pristine kitchen counter before thinking twice and moving it to the cutting board, taking a napkin to clean the smear it had left behind on the granite, Emma wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “It’s too big.” For one person. “And it’s got too many memories.” None of which were particularly pleasant, but she didn’t bother to tell that to Regina. Emma was not at all prepared for that conversation, especially not this early in the morning. Regina hadn’t even finished her coffee, yet. 

She was pouring Emma a cup of her own, adding plenty of sugar and milk the way she liked it. “Well, feel free to make use of our guestroom, if you need a place to stay in the meanwhile.” 

Emma had become a frequent presence at the mansion of late, as the result of her genuine but less than subtle attempts to ensure Regina was not isolating herself or needlessly suffering alone. By all accounts, Emma was basically a resident of 108 Mifflin Street but Regina’s offer was still generous. “I wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome.” 

“Nonsense. You’re always welcome.” She made to hand Emma her mug. “I can understand how suffocating it feels to be trapped inside the wrong home.” Regina had been speaking offhand of her awful arranged marriage to King Leopold, during her time as the invisible Queen of Nothing. She only recognized the loaded significance of her words when she caught Emma’s reaction, her eyes growing soft and her lips quirking at the corners. Regina licked her lips, nervously. “By which, of course, I mean to say--” 

“I’d be honored, if you’d let me stay.” Emma said and accepted the mug, finger accidentally brushing Regina’s in the exchange. “It would sure as hell beat staying with my mom again, anyway.” 

Regina’s expression was guarded, unreadable. “...I can imagine so.” 

Upstairs, Emma could hear Henry stomping around. Like herself, her son was not a morning person and having to get up extra early for a dental appointment before school was evidently souring his mood. Looking to the ceiling at the sound, breaking the moment, they missed the wash of relief that crossed both their faces. 

“Thanks again for taking him,” Regina said, absently smoothing down the nonexistent wrinkles in her mayoral suit. “I’m just drowning in work right now.” 

“No problem,” Emma said, fighting a yawn and sipping her coffee. “As much as it sucks to pay taxes, I can’t exactly envy those with the bureaucratic duty of filing them.” 

“I just want it all finalized before we leave for Arizona. Snow might have agreed to hold the city keys while I’m gone, but the shorter her to-do list the better.” 

Emma leaned on the counter.“Did she… I dunno, seem weird to you? When you talked?” 

“Weird how?” 

Emma shrugged. “Like… suspicious?” 

“No more so than usual.” Regina’s eyes narrowed, watching as Emma opened the paper bag and retrieved a bear claw, her usual breakfast. “Why do you ask?” 

“It’s nothing. Just something she said the other day. Rubbed me the wrong way.” 

Regina’s eyebrows rose, but she did not press the issue.

Snow’s exact words to Emma had been, “I wish you only the best,” and the cryptic delivery matched with avoidance and hesitation, and forced smiles, had been attacking Emma’s anxiety ever since. She didn’t want to admit that Snow disapproved of her choice to vacation with Regina, but it was clear to Emma that she was withholding her true opinion. Like the painful memories of her failed home with Hook, this was not the right conversation for the time. At that moment though, she had paused, looking confusedly into the bag. “… I didn’t order a danish.” 

Taking a sip of her coffee, Regina said, “I’ll take it, if you don’t want it.”

Emma’s head tilted. “You like danishes?” 

“From time to time,” she said, turning to her cabinet for a small plate. “If I’m feeling indulgent.” 

“Huh.” Noting that, for whatever the reason that day Regina was apparently feeling indulgent, Emma pulled out the pastry wrapped in wax paper. Her tongue ran lightly over her lips. “It’s cinnamon apple.”

The look they shared across the kitchen counter could have charged a car battery. 

"Well.” Regina’s mouth twisted, half amused and half chagrined. “Granny’s never been one to hold her opinion, has she?” 

Emma laughed, but the sound was odd. Restrained. Nervous, even. “Wonder what she’ll send over next, once she hears that I’ve moved in?” 

*

“Mom,” Henry says, breaking her reverie and causing her to jump. “Traffic’s moving.” 

The ambulance blares its siren, echoing among the cars and hard pavement, striking the very marrow in Regina’s bones, as it reverses and turns, speeding back over the hill to the hospital. The police are escorting, redirecting all lanes, around the wreck. Regina puts away the paper cup still full of coffee, shifts gears and pulls up to the road, waiting, leaning on the edge of her seat, to be waived in. 

Her fingers drum on the wheel. 

*

“You don’t think…” Emma started, visibly uncomfortable. “Granny doesn’t think that we’re…” 

“That we’re what?” 

"That we’re… like, _ dating _, or something. Does she?” 

Regina blinked. “Why would she think that?”

Emma’s shrug was exaggerated, practically comical. “Why else would she give me the danish?” 

“Well, you have been spending a lot of time around me lately.” 

“I mean, yeah, but… well, it’s been a… friendly thing. I’ve been looking after you.” 

“Perhaps the old wolf wasn’t too blind to notice, then,” Regina said as her spine straightened. “And what makes you think I’ve not been the one looking after you?” She slowly sipped her coffee, eyeing her over the rim.

“After me?” 

She nodded. “After being the Dark One, and losing your… Hook... I’ve actually been keeping tabs on you. Just in case.” 

“In case of what?” 

“In case you needed anything.”

Emma blinked. “Well, I didn’t need you to.” 

“Well, I didn’t need you to, either.” And, yet, she had let her. They both had.

“So,” Emma said, frowning slightly. “Is that why you agreed to the vacation? For my sake?” 

Regina rolled her eyes dramatically. “No, I agreed because I knew it would drive your mother crazy to watch you become better BFFs with her former greatest enemy. Of course, I’m doing it for your sake.” Averting her eyes, she dipped her head, conceding. “And for Henry’s. Mostly.” 

“It was his idea.” 

“It was.”

“We... “ Emma swallowed. “We don’t have to go, if you don’t-” 

Regina turned to her. “We’re going.” And that was final. 

Emma smiled and exhaled, releasing tension she hadn’t even realized she was holding. “Good.” She handed over the danish. “Who cares what other people think, anyway.” 

*

Regina is finally reaching the hospital, tires screeching on the asphalt as she rounds the corner, braking in just enough time to contend with the speed bump at the gate. Rolling along beside the parking lot, eyes scanning signs and the directing arrows, she navigates the compound and locates the Emergency Trauma Center. 

A blue sign with a large H marks the heliport above on the roof. It is empty, with no sound nor sight of the helicopter anywhere. 

Already off to rescue the next hapless adventurer, no doubt. 

She pulls up alongside the ambulance from the earlier wreck, now empty save for an EMT cleaning the interior. 

“M’am, you can’t park here,” a young man in a security uniform tries to tell her as she slams the door on the blue car, leaving it in the marked access lane under the tiled roof awning. 

“Tow it, then,” she says and marches inside, Henry following quickly in her wake.

*

“Are you sure it doesn’t bother you?” 

“What?” Emma asked, tearing apart a bite of her bearclaw. 

“People meddling. In your business.”

Emma snorted. “I’m used to it.” She nodded at Regina’s breakfast. “What bothers me is watching you eat a danish with a fork and knife.” 

Regina sucked her teeth. “Be serious, Emma.” She was genuinely concerned to know. 

Emma brushed off the concern, though, like the pastry flakes from her fingers. “Granny makes other people’s business her business. I think only Gold could be her rival for that. But, for once, she’s off her mark.” She continued eating and watched as Regina’s look grew stormy. She swallowed, hard. “I mean... I think it’s kinda funny. Don’t you?”

“Not particularly, no,” she said, placing down her utensils. “I’m... not fond of watching people project their opinions onto you.” 

“This, from Regina _ You’re-Too-Good-For-Hook _ Mills?” 

Regina, for a moment, was actually taken aback and she looked away to the floor, her thumb tapping against the handle of her mug. “I do regret saying that.” There was a genuine embarrassment, something akin to shame, in her voice. “I just… I only ever wanted to be supportive. A good friend.”

“And you are,” Emma promised her. “But... you still meant it. Didn’t you?” 

They could hear Henry coming down the stairs. 

Regina nodded and looked back at her. “You’re too good for a lot of people.”

*

The automatic sliding doors part and release a gust of cold air, tinted with smells of latex and sanitation, sharp and astringent in the back of her throat. Her shoes squeak on the polished floor, dust from the desert falling off in a faint trail behind her. She is a mess, her hair frazzled and falling loose from the tie holding it back. Dirt stains on her jeans, blood beneath her nails and all along the hem of her shirt, she looks half-worthy of admittance herself. 

She cuts in line at the welcome desk, startling the receptionist who has one hand on a touchscreen and the other holding onto her headset. 

“The woman who came in the helicopter, where is she?” 

The receptionist holds up a finger, telling her to wait. “Yes, go ahead dispatch.” 

“Excuse me, I was in the middle of--” the man standing beside Regina starts, but she silences him with a glare that would have otherwise set his toupee ablaze. 

“I’m here for Emma Swan,” Regina says, louder, demanding the woman’s attention. 

The receptionist holds up her finger again, pressing the headset more firmly into her ear, before she touches the screen and begins typing. Regina looks around, trying to find someone else who will answer her now. The whole room is watching her. A nurse standing near a door marked “Patients Only” begins to approach. 

Regina meets her halfway, pulling Henry along with her. 

“Yes, ma’am, how can we-” 

“You have a patient here, just airlifted in from the Great Canyon.”

“Grand Canyon, Mom.” 

“Grand Canyon, whatever. Her name is Emma Swan. I need to see her.” 

“It’s OK, ma’am, we’ll get you to her. Are you all right? Do you need some wat-“

“Where is she?” Regina barks.

“Ma’am,” the nurse says, holding up her hands. “I’m going to need you to remain calm.” 

Regina opens her mouth, presumably to scream, but Henry squeezes her hand. She stops. Swallows. Breathes. “I need to see Emma.” 

“Yes ma’am, I understand. What is your relationship to the patient?” 

“I’m her son!” Henry pipes up. 

The nurse nods, smiling gently. Then, eyebrows lifting, she asks Regina, “And you?” 

Regina inhales. “I’m her wife.” 


	2. Relax

Regina had not done very well with her first airport experience. She’d nearly gotten them all into trouble when she refused to take off her shoes at the security check and then bristled at the guards when they then chose to search her luggage. She was eventually waived through, without any further issue other than a stern warning. Emma had been both decent and wise enough not to make mention of the incident afterwards, focusing instead on making sure they weren’t late to the gate, although Henry did complain of being forever embarrassed. 

She had not fared much better on the plane, either. For someone who had more than once ridden the back of a dragon, it was surprising to even Regina that she would hate flying so intensely. Constantly on edge, unable to honestly trust the enormously heavy hunk of metal that couldn’t flap or use magic to stay airborne, Regina had snapped at the flight attendant and clutched marks into her armrest. Emma had tried, being good natured but foolish, to calm her down by offering her hand to hold. Regina had refused, at first, but when the plane encountered turbulence she had gripped Emma’s hand so tightly it threatened to break. Emma did not complain once, even as her face turned a deep shade of puce; a sharp reminder to just how strong Regina actually was.

By the time they had arrived in Phoenix, eight hours, one connecting flight, and three time zones later, Regina’s mood had barely improved. She was impatient at baggage claim, and at the rental car station, and, eventually, Emma had tersely bid Henry to take Regina off to the Cinnabon for a blood sugar boost, claiming they were just as good as any danish, so that she could complete their check-out in peace. 

Regina had then been sullen and uncharacteristically quiet in the car ride to Flagstaff, occasionally picking bites of her cinnamon bun as Emma drove. Tight lipped, goal focused and sharp, Emma’s patience had evidently been worn thin but her resolve, her refusal to see this vacation as anything other than a good thing, won out in the end. Once they were clear of the city, that is.

Emma sighed, letting her shoulders drop, and broke the long silence. “I had been in prison,” she said, “the last time I was in Phoenix.” 

She had been alone, orphaned and then abandoned, pregnant and scared. Regina and Henry both knew the story quite well, or most of it at least, by now. They seemed to have silently agreed not to bring it up, and were now a little surprised to hear Emma do so willingly.

But she was relaxing, managing to smile once again. “I like this visit much better already.”

Henry laughed, and so did Regina, though far more quietly. “And the canyon?” she inquired. “You said you’d been there before?” 

Emma nodded. “Yep. On the day I got out.” 

Two hours later, when they got to Flagstaff, the atmosphere within their little blue rental car had become an odd cocktail of relief and humor, with a small splash of tears. Emma had not meant to overshare, but her captive audience had been willing and considerate and, frankly, just as in need of catharsis. 

Henry and Regina had sat in rapt attention, gently encouraging her to be candid, and listened to the seldom spoken tale of how the young savior had once lived in the wide world without magic before finally finding her family. Regina had been unable to look anywhere other than straight ahead, falling so lost in her own contemplation thereafter that she did not notice until the car had stopped that they were finally breaking for lunch. Though, with the time difference, it felt more like dinner. 

“Historic Route 66, stop number one,” Emma said proudly, and Henry began to cackle. “Granny’s Closet.” 

“Granny’s-- what?” Regina looked about and saw an all too familiar and yet entirely different sign, posted next to a massive plaster statue of who she could only assume was Paul Bunyan, of all people. She shook her head. “I don’t even want to know.” 

They ended up spending more time than Regina would have liked at the kitchy little diner, but the food was actually surprisingly good, certainly worth all of Emma’s hype, even if Regina did remark with a smirk that she could still taste the irony in her grilled chicken. Henry made sure to nab a picture of the three of them standing in front of the bar, the afternoon sun gleaming through a stained glass motif of an old country granny plucking a banjo behind them. Handing back the camera, the bartender said they were a cute family, but Henry was the only one to hear him. He gave a conspiratorial wink in reply.

*

“Your wife?” The nurse asks, frowning. She looks at the clipboard in her hand and flips a page. 

Regina’s lips are thin, growing pale, and she tries not to look at Henry as he balks. “Yes.” She squeezes his hand tightly, in warning. He quickly shuts his mouth. 

“The... woman in the helicopter?” 

“Yes. Emma Swan.” Her pitch is rising, quavering in obvious restraint. She doesn’t see what could possibly be so confusing about her claim. She starts to suspect the worst. 

“It’s all right, Mrs. Swan. Please, calm down. I’m just trying to get my facts straight. Have you signed in yet?” 

Regina takes a sudden breath. “It Mi-” And then another, swallowing, regaining control. “It’s... Mills, actually. We… didn’t want to change our names.” She turns back, looking over her shoulder. “And, no. I haven’t.” The woman behind the front desk is pointing at her and the young security guard from outside is approaching. 

“Ma’am,” he calls. “I need you to move your car. Now, please.” 

She grits her teeth and swallows the wild urge to strangle him. She tosses him the keys instead, which he barely catches. “Help yourself.” 

The nurse does not appreciate this decision, and her tone leaves no room for argument. “Mrs. Mills, we are expecting two more emergency patients, arriving any moment now. I would greatly appreciate it if you chose not to add to my current list of problems, and went and moved your car now. Please.”

Henry is already pulling on her arm, leading her gently, and taking the keys back from the wary security guard. “Mom. It’s ok.” He places the keys in her hand. “It’ll just take a second.” He glances apologetically to the guard and then back at the nurse, who nods slightly in understanding. 

Regina eventually relents and, with some embarrassment, walks off with Henry to move their car out of the emergency lane. 

* 

The rest of the ride out to the canyon had been fun, filled with excitement. Regina took her turn to drive, asserting that Emma would just continue to deviate from their itinerary if left in control of the wheel, leaving Emma free to point out sites along the way. There wasn’t much to witness but, even in the hazy overcast light, the scenery was fascinating to behold. A wild and rare, unusual and unexpected beauty, Emma had called it. Regina wasn’t so sure about that, but it was certainly a far cry from the dark, misty veiled shadows of Maine. Henry took more pictures, experimentally adjusting the levels and exposure on his camera, managing to catch the world in stunning clarity. He was already planning how he would depict this page in the storybook when he got the chance to write about their journey. 

Time slipped by like water over polished stone, and before they knew it, they were inside the national park, waiting for their scheduled shuttle, luggage in hand and packs on their backs. The car was sequestered in long term parking, a tiny blue fish amid a veritable sea of recreational vehicle campers, ready in waiting for their return from the canyon. Dozens of other tourists milled about, many carrying maps and sporting sunburns. The energy, the air of expectant adventure, was infectious. Henry was bouncing on the balls of his feet, Emma just as much the same. Regina, checking her watch, seemed to be the only one focused or even remotely interested in completing the final leg of the trip. 

“C’mon, Regina. We’re here. We’re so close.”

“Emma, we only have half an hour to check our bags before the shuttle arrives, and if we miss--”

“We won’t!” 

Curving around the lodge, rumbling into view, a tour bus approached. Scrolling, illuminated letters read  _ Canyon Village Loop. _

“C’mon, Mom, let’s go see it! It’s only a few minutes away!”

“Seriously, like less than ten!” 

Regina could not understand the apparent need, nor the allure. It honestly was just another large hole in the ground. There were much larger canyons back in other realms. Would seeing it now, rather than the next day, really make that much difference?

“It’s worth it, I promise,” Emma said, as if she had read her thoughts, and smirked at her. “You know I’m right.” 

Regina gave a sigh as the bus braked at their stop, lowering slowly with a pneumatic hiss, and she shrugged, defeated. “Fine.” Emma and Henry cheered and rushed the doors as soon as the previous passengers finished disembarking. “But if we miss our shuttle to the inn, you’re not only driving us out there, you’ll be playing valet after the trip too.” 

“It’s a private shuttle, Regina. They won’t leave without us,” Emma said, sitting down next to her. Henry in the seat ahead had his face plastered to the glass, staring out at the giant pines and craning his neck to try and see more. “We’ve made it. Relax. It’s vacation time.” 

*

“And sign in first, this time,” the nurse calls after them. “Just talk to Cindy, our receptionist, when you get back. She’ll take care of you.” 

Passing by the front desk on her way out the door, Regina glances over at the young woman behind it. Cindy wiggles her fingers in almost mocking salutation, peering at her over the top of her bright red glasses, the corners of her forced smile hardly reaching to her eyes. Regina gives a tight nod in return and keeps walking. 

“Mom, why did you say that Emma was--” 

“Hush, now, Henry,” she murmurs and misses the disconcerting frown that falls upon Cindy’s face as they exit through the large sliding doors and into the unbearable heat outside. 

“Ma’am, is this your car?” The EMT from the adjacent ambulance is hurrying towards her. 

Regina sucks through her teeth. “If anyone calls me Ma’am, one more time, I swear-- Yes! It’s mine!” she snaps and unlocks it remotely with the key fob. “I’m moving it, I’m moving it. Relax!”

She gets inside, feeling the damp cool of the evaporating air conditioning cling to her skin, and slams her door. She shudders as she turns the ignition. The engine growls softly to life, the air blasting once more from the vents. Henry jumps into the back seat on and puts on his safety belt. Regina doesn’t bother with hers. Already, she can hear the distant wail of another ambulance approaching. 

Her stomach is turning sour. She fears she is going to be sick. She manages to pull out of the emergency lane, one handed, the back of her other hand pressed tightly to her mouth, just as the vehicle arrives behind her. She swallows down the rising bile, the acrid smell of her cold and stale coffee wafting through the cabin forcing her to roll down her window. 

The siren rings sharply in her ears only briefly before it stops. Red and orange lights continue to flash, reflecting in Regina’s rearview as she pauses at the turn to the parking lot ahead. A summer breeze lifts the soft hairs stuck with sweat at the nape of her neck, tickling, raising goosebumps over her skin. She cannot keep herself from looking back, from staring in the mirror at the newest trauma to grace her path.

Her jaw sets as she bears witness to the faraway flurry of people, to the stretcher regurgitating itself from the back of the vehicle, and to the clamor of controlled chaos. The ambulance blocks her view of whatever poor soul is being rushed inside. The hood of the vehicle is filthy, just as coated in red dust as Regina. 

She vaguely remembers passing an ambulance on the desert highway, well over an hour ago, and assumes it to be the same one. 

Quite the busy day for the hospital, or so it seems. Turning into a vacant spot near the back of the lot, underneath the closest approximation of shade available, Regina thanks whatever lucky star is responsible for Emma’s early arrival, in the calm before the storm.

A small blessing, given her circumstances, but at least she wasn’t arriving now.

*

“So…?” 

“So, what?” 

“Are you gonna say it?” 

Regina crossed her arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, you know.” Emma’s smirk was entirely too smug. “Go on ahead. Say it.” 

Regina pursed her lips. “No,” she said, lifting her chin and looking off, fighting a smile. 

“Aww, c’mon, Regina. Indulge me? Just this once?” 

Emma was giving her best pleading puppy-eyes. Regina didn’t even have to look to know. She could hear it in her voice. 

“You’re impossible.” Regina said and laughed softly. “Fine. Fine… You were right.” 

“Eh? Say that again?” Emma held her hand to her ear. “I was what, now?”

“You were right,  _ Miss Swan. _ ” Regina pinched her side, making Emma giggle and step away. “Once again, you were  _ right _ . Astonishingly.” 

She had to concede. Standing at the edge of the Grand Canyon was truly a sight greater than she had expected. It was majesty incarnate. With seemingly endless miles of wide open wilderness, painted red and gold and orange, highlighted by deep shadows of mystery, the beckoning glory promised adventure to all who sought it and existed for nothing other than itself. 

In a word, it was breathtaking. 

“Don’t worry, Regina,” Emma said, her eyes bright. “I promise, I won’t mention it again.” 

She snorted. “Now, that’s a lie.” 

“Meh. Probably so.” Emma beamed. Her hands placed on her hips, she breathed in deeply the fresh canyon air and exhaled. “Can’t wait for the river tomorrow….”

Regina just smiled and nodded. She wanted to say that she was just as excited, but her entire body had tensed in response. 

Not to suggest that she was afraid of the water or the rapids that she had freely consented to raft, but ever since Regina had completed the security waivers for their expedition, attaching all manner of medical and emergency contact information, she had harbored an existential dread in the back of her mind for the whole expedition. She had to chalk it up to relative experience. Her luck in life had been undeniably indifferent towards her pursuit of happiness, dysmally predictable enough for Regina to sometimes consider if she had secretly been cursed. Although another, louder, part of her mind told her that any such misfortune was merely a matter of recompense; a perpetual punishment for her many crimes, and not just mere coincidence. 

Either way, Regina understood that it was irrational. She had taken active measures to rid herself of those anxieties, going even so far as to pay an on-the-clock visit to Dr. Hopper. His professional advice had been to focus on that which she could control, and allow the rest to come as it may. 

Easier said than done, of course, but being given a task had always helped her before. 

Hence, before leaving Storybrooke, Regina had ensured that all manner of her estate and Emma’s had been safely warded with strong and lasting enchantments. All bureaucratic business had been reduced to mundane operations that Snow could practically monitor in her sleep. All reservations had been confirmed and re-confirmed again, and all important documents, registrations, and identification cards had been collected in a weather-proof vinyl bag. All necessary provisions, packed in appropriately portioned bottles acceptable for air travel, all proper clothing and footwear, and nearly every imaginable piece of first-aid had been counted off her checklist as well. She even included (and Regina had been quite proud to present this) a discrete dose of emergency magic; fairy dust combined with diluted essence of squid ink, among other ingredients that she wouldn’t reveal, all loaded and preserved with elvish runes inside a re-purposed Epipen injector. It was a potent concoction guaranteed to last several hours, at the very least.

Regina had decided to call it Magipen. And Emma had decided to call Regina a nerd, stating quite confidently that they would not need it. Regardless, she had marveled at her invention. And at her. Quite openly.

“You’ve prepared for everything, Regina,” Emma had said to her the night before their flight as she went up the stairs to the guest room. Her voice had drifted down to Regina like a lullaby, soft and sad. “Just try to relax and get some sleep, ok? I promise you, we’re gonna have a great time.” 

Regina was taking comfort now, seeing the happy smile stuck on Henry’s face, and aimed to take Emma’s advice to heart once more.

“So, it looks like Ma was right, huh?” her son teased as he bounced over the last step in the stone path, enjoying the skid of his sneakers as he landed in the red dirt. 

Regina smirked and rolled her eyes. “Yes, Henry. Emma was right. In all my life, for all the kingdoms I have known, there is no sight that compares.” 

Out of the corner of her eye, Emma saw how Regina was no longer looking at the canyon, but at her. She quickly averted her gaze back over the gorge, biting back her smile

Henry snapped a shot of them with his camera. The flash broke the moment. “Do you think we still have time to check out the gift shop?” He asked, looking around for where building might stand. 

Regina was astounded. “Honestly?” she asked, folding her arms. “All this natural beauty and all you can think of are souvenirs?” 

“Yeah, well,” he said, shuffling his feet. “We’re tourists on vacation, right? Might as well check out the merchandise.” 

“Might as well, Regina,” Emma said, poorly concealing her own eagerness to check out the potential swag. “Souvenirs are a part of any major road trip. It’s a time honored tradition.” She had already bought a tacky t-shirt from Granny’s Closet.

“A tradition, I thought, one normally reserved for the  _ end _ of their journey.” 

“It can be an ongoing thing,” Emma said with a shrug. “Besides, we still need to get a postcard to send from Phantom Ranch.” The website had said it was a traditional thing to do.

“Going to send one to your mother? ” Regina jabbed and Emma laughed back, derisively. 

It had become an inside joke of sorts between the two of them, Snow and her apparent disapproval. If anyone had asked, Regina would have told them that Snow had been actively avoiding them both ever since Emma had taken up residence at the mansion. Which, of all the anxieties Regina had experienced of late, was one that hardly took her by surprise. She had never really held much hope of regaining Snow’s trust. And, oddly, Regina was fine with that. If nothing else, it at least felt normal.

Though, in this moment, the joke didn’t seem to land as it should have. Emma was frowning, her gaze growing distant. 

“Hey.” Regina rubbed Emma’s shoulder. “She’ll loosen up eventually.” Not that she necessarily believed that, but the vote of confidence seemed to help regardless. “And I know there will be plenty of postcards to buy at the ranch, I’m sure, but if we don’t get going now we’re going to be late for our shuttle.”

Someone had to be responsible for the itinerary, after all. As she herded them back onto the bus, however, she was privately vowing not to allow her anxiety to disrupt their vacation. She could be fun. She could relax. She could do this, for their sake, even if she had trouble believing it now. 

Things were going to be just fine. Just fine. 

*

Regina places the car in park, applying the parking brake. She doesn’t turn off the engine. There’s still too much drama occuring at the hospital entrance. Instead she turns the air down low and, placing her arms on the steering wheel, rests her head on top. She exhales with a shudder and feels the nausea in the pit of her stomach begin to settle. 

“Mom?” Henry’s voice is thin. Scared. A familiar hand that used to be so small is placed on the back of her neck. “You’ve gone all clammy.” 

“...I’m ok, sweetheart,” she says, refusing to yield to the cry that wants to rip through her chest. “I’m just fine.” 

He frowns in disbelief and climbs into the front seat. 

“Careful,” she mutters and moves to try and help as he maneuvers around the objects on the floorboard. “Don’t step on--” 

“I’ve got it, Mom,” he says and picks up the vinyl document bag, placing it safely in his lap. Looking at her, looking so very much like Emma, wide eyed and bewildered, he takes hold of her hand and puts his head on her shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, Henry.” 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says, sounding both too young and too old all at once. 

She turns her head and kisses the top of his, inhaling deeply and calming down slowly, wrapping her arm around him. “And I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you,” she says reproachfully, smiling despite herself, her pride overwhelming. “How are you… are you doing all right?” She pauses to look him over, protective instincts pushing her past her own feelings of panic. There’s a small tear hanging on the curve of his cheek and she wipes it away with her thumb, holding his face in her hands. 

“I’m ok, too,” he says, swallowing hard. She can tell plainly that he isn’t, but she doesn’t argue. She understands. 

They don’t need to talk about it right now. They just need to take a moment to breathe, to sit in the warm breeze, and wait for the chaos to clear. 

After all that driving, her narrow focus fixed solely on simply finding the hospital, and Regina still has no ideas, no plans, for whatever is coming next. She needs to keep her wits about her. Her phone, all the important documents, all their luggage cannot be abandoned like that again. She cannot afford to be so reckless, so blindly driven by emotion. And she certainly cannot afford to continue to be so weak around her son. She has to be strong for them both. For Emma, too.

Her stomach twists, her anxiety roiling once more. She still needs to call Snow. She bites her lip, hard, forcing herself to keep it together, forcing herself to face that fear later, when she has more answers. Because there’s no way she can face her now. Regina has no clue how she is even going to begin to explain.

She nearly wishes aloud to be able to tear out her own heart, and silently curses this land without magic instead. 

*

At long last, they arrived at the Cliffdwellers Inn and Restaurant in Marble Canyon, on the northern side of the gorge, just west of the river, and just in time for dinner. Their rendezvous point was a rustic series of dusty stone buildings that hid against towering red rock mountain walls, colors blending seamlessly, amid a vast open nothing. Literally, in the middle of nowhere. 

The road leading there had stretched far beyond reasonable habitation and yet, as they had traveled, there had been sudden moments of proof. Patches of low lying homes, like scattered Legos. The occasional livestock paddock. A surprising number of churches. All standing plainly among the earth and sky. Starkly. Strangely. Seemingly for no one, and yet also for the whole world. Regina and Emma and Henry had watched it all pass by, fading in and out of consciousness, the weariness of travel finally starting to set in, occasionally napping as the shuttle drove on in comfortable silence. 

Henry had to be nudged awake upon arrival, having fallen asleep on Emma’s shoulder, though he had little difficulty doing so; the saturated orange and purple glow of sunset cast overhead positively demanded the use of his camera. Emma stayed with him in the lot outside the inn, happy to indulge his new hobby, while Regina got their room key. 

Inside the small, wood-paneled lobby, were a handful of fellow river adventurists. Some checking in, others on their way to the restaurant. Regina, not wishing to mingle, avoided most small talk as she made her way directly to the front desk.

“A-4?” Asked a slight, and incredibly tanned, middle aged woman with short, bottle blonde hair, as she was checking in beside Regina. “Sorry, couldn’t help but notice. Howdy there, neighbor.” She then held up her room key, the tag reading A-3. 

Regina nodded, her expression controlled. “Indeed.” 

“First time rafter?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “I can tell. You look anxious.” 

Regina’s eyes narrowed, but yet she smirked approvingly at the woman’s brusque and accurate assessment. “You’ve got some nerve.” 

“A personality flaw, I know. It’s a problem.” She chuckled, and so did Regina. Genuinely, however guarded. “This will be my third expedition, but it’s a first with this outfitter. Don’t worry, though. I’ll make sure you don’t get into any trouble.” And she left for the restaurant, looking back just to say, “I’m Karen, by the way.” 

“...Regina.” 

She stared after Karen as she left, unsure what to make of the woman. Unsure whether she’d just been comforted or insulted. Or, if she had just made a friend. Or, perhaps, a rival. 

There had been a familiarity in the rough abrasion that passed for her personality, a strong sense of self-inflated importance and casual disdain. Of assumed power. The recognition left Regina a little uneasy, at once both intrigued and strangely intimidated. But then, ultimately, just annoyed.

Any remaining consternation over Karen fled when Regina returned outside to see Emma and Henry attempting, and failing, to take a selfie with the sunset in the background. Eventually, with her head resting atop his, Emma managed to get the shot. Only then did Regina interrupt. 

“If we’re quite ready?” she asked, collecting her pack, heart swollen with something that felt like pride but larger. “I’d like to still have at least a few seconds to freshen up before dinner.” Before she had to meet anyone else new. “Fates forbid I should actually get a chance to make a good first impression.”

*

The first ambulance, the one from the car accident, eventually drives around and away from the emergency lane. The dirty one remains. The coast seems clear, or clear enough. 

Raising the windows on the car before turning off the engine, telling Henry to be sure to bring his book, Regina catches a glimpse of herself in the rear-view. She does not like what she sees, and so she takes control in the little ways that she still can. 

Collecting all their necessities, Regina lastly retrieves her vanity bag and a slightly wrinkled but clean linen dress from her suitcase. She changes out of her sneakers and into her heels. She hands Henry his comb. 

“Let’s try this again,” she says, closing the trunk and staring at her reflection in the dark-tinted window, locking the car. 

She walks calmly across the lot, her spine straight. Henry is following in step, already combing his hair, or trying to. There’s one spot in the back that remains elusive to taming, sticking out prominently to the side. 

"A little water should help. Use the sink in the restroom.” 

Just a few minutes. They can spare just a few minutes more, in the pursuit of normalcy, for not just their own sake. When they see Emma again-- not if, but when-- they will look their best. And she will see then that everything is ok, and that they really are all going to be just fine. 

* 

When they arrived to dinner, their group of fellow rafters had already commandeered the large community table at the center of the cramped but clean restaurant. More, they were told, would be arriving in the morning, before orientation began. Emma, Regina, and Henry made their polite but brief introductions as they passed them by, superficial almost to a fault, and yet still it took them several long minutes before they were finally sequestered at their own smaller table by the window. 

Among the group, they had met Rick, the orthodontist; Pamela and Kate, twin sisters in their early sixties; Lars and Gretchen, from Sweden; John and Merideth Howard, and their fifteen-year-old son Michael, who had high-fived Henry for his cool Spiderman shirt. And Denise, a geology student from Colorado. 

Every one of them had been welcoming, genuinely friendly, which was something unsurprising to Henry but very much a relief to Emma and Regina. For two entirely different reasons. 

Eventually, Regina spied Karen sitting outdoors on the veranda, apparently enjoying her dinner alone. She nodded, lips tight, when Karen caught her eyes, and devoted her attention to her menu.

Emma looked over to where Regina had nodded. “Making friends already?” 

“Remains to be seen,” she said, glancing up and noting how Karen did not return Emma’s casual wave of hello. “Though, I’d just as soon not.”

One of the many precautions of their travel plans called for them to maintain a low profile. Preserving Storybrooke’s secrets and their own personal history of magic was of the utmost importance, but their approach to the matter had been kept relatively simple. Effortless, really. Just avoid over-engagement, keep close to the truth, and redirect whenever possible. It was basic, easy to remember, and easy to manage. Don’t over-share. Don’t lie if you can help it. And make our sleepy little town in Maine sound too boring to discuss. 

So very simple and, so far, so good. 

No one they had met had made any inquiries, or any challenges to the contrary, when they had claimed each other as simply family. For all intents and purposes, the statement was true but, beyond that, was it really anybody else’s business? 

Exactly. No. It wasn’t. No one was owed an explanation, and everyone had known well enough not to ask. Manners, it seemed, still existed in parts of the world.

They ate their dinner quickly, keeping otherwise to themselves. Afterwards, Emma and Regina declined the offer to join the rest of the early arrivals for a nightcap on the veranda, citing fatigue as their fair excuse. Truthfully told, they were all quite tired and ready for bed. Especially Henry. 

Avoidance had nothing to do with it. No, nothing at all. 

*

Regina emerges from the restroom down the hall. Her hair is neat, and her makeup precise, her lips a dramatic red. Her fingernails are clean. Her heels click loudly, announcing her presence as she walks with Henry to the desk. Her expression is neutral as she looks for the same nurse from before but sees that she is gone, presumably already helping the latest incoming. There are no other nurses, nor doctors, to be seen; there is only Cindy behind her desk and a room full of waiting people.

She quirks an eyebrow at Regina when she finally sees her but otherwise continues her work without blinking an eye.

"Henry, why don’t you see if you can find us a place to sit,” Regina says, indicating the waiting room. “I’ll be right there.” 

There is only one person in front of her in line, the same toupeed man from before. Regina waits a little more patiently, though she does start to tap her foot when the discussion at the desk turns conversational. 

“And please give my best to Dr. Davis,” he is saying, leaning on the counter. “We haven’t spoken in months, not since my surgery, and I just want to express my most heartfelt gratitude.” 

He is ignoring Regina, or else so entirely lacking in self-awareness that he genuinely does not notice her. She clears her throat. And then again, loudly. 

“Ma’am,” Cindy says to her from her rolling chair, and Regina’s lip twitches. “I will be with you in a moment.” 

“Sorry,” she says, not sounding the least bit so. “I think I’m coming down with something.” 

Early onset Doesnotgiveadamnitis. 

When it’s finally her turn, and the man with the toupee has left through the sliding doors, the phone rings. Cindy takes the call before Regina can speak. 

She bites down on her tongue until she tastes copper in her mouth. 

“Yes, I got that in a few hours ago. Should be arriving any moment now. I’ll keep you posted as needed. The other--” She glances at Regina before moving to her keyboard, typing away quickly, “--I’m processing now. Should I admit or hold for--?” She glances at Regina again, and holds up a clip board with an attached pen on a chain. 

Regina opens her mouth to say, “I’m here to see--” and is cut off. 

“The woman in the helicopter, yeah,” Cindy hisses at her, covering her headset mic. “I heard you the first time.” Regina takes the proffered clipboard, with several pages of forms attached. “Yes, Ma’am,” Cindy says back into the mic, waving Regina off. “That’s what they said. Yes, on the record-- I know that-- yes, of course.” She rolls her eyes when she sees that Regina is not leaving. She covers her mic, rising, and pointing to the well-patient waiting room. “Fill these out and bring it back.” 

“Can you tell me first, what--” But Cindy was already back at work, frowning and focusing intently at her computer, clearly taking some sort of verbal reaming from whatever boss she is reporting to. 

Regina wants answers, and she’s grown tired of waiting for them. But, still, she falls in line and goes to join Henry with the rest. She already knows, and is painfully aware, she stands on thin ice. It’s just a few more necessary steps, a few more formalities and she’ll be seeing her again. 

Regina remembers her promising that. They are going to see each other again. 

*

“Regina. It’s late,” Emma groaned, the bedsheets half pulled over her eyes. Even nearly asleep, the haloed glare of the muted television blurring the edges of her vision, she could still make out Regina standing by the coffee table. Repacking her dry bag. For what had to be the third time. 

“Go to sleep,” she said quietly, not wanting to wake Henry as he slumbered in the wheel-away bed beside her. “I’m nearly done.” 

“ _ You _ go to sleep,” Emma whispered back, frowning. “It’s another long day tomorrow. You need rest. And so do I.”

Lips pursed, Regina made sure the emergency magic was safely packed within the bag and zipped her pack. “Well, excuse me for wanting to be ready.”

Emma sat up, sighing. “Regina--” 

But she was already shutting off the television, casting their shared room into deep darkness. Their eyes adjusted slowly, leaving perception to their ears. Emma heard Regina’s pack being lowered to the floor. A rustle of material. Fabric being drawn smoothly over skin. 

Emma turned around in her bed, facing the wall and not where the shadow of Regina had begun to change clothes in the faintly growing presence of distant moonlight.

Regina heard the squeaking box spring from Emma’s bed as she rolled over, the pull of the quilted covers, a quiet, somewhat defeated, “G’night.” Then stillness, punctured only by the sound of Henry’s breathing and the rumble of the air conditioning as it kicked on.

“Goodnight, Emma.” 

*

“If you didn’t say that-- I mean, If you weren’t _actually_ married,” Henry speaks quietly, carefully, as his mother does her best to fill out all the questions on the clipboard. “Would they still let you in to see Ma?” 

Her grip on the pen is too tight. She struggles to write legibly. She lets go of the pen and flexes her fingers, shaking out her hand. “I don’t know, Henry,” she mutters, not wanting to have this discussion now. “I think so.” She hopes so. 

“Want me to help?” he asks, holding out his hand for the clipboard. 

Regina shakes her head. “I’ve got this.” 

She resumes filling out the form. 

There is a warning at the bottom, that her signature grants the hospital rights to check submitted information with a national database, cross-referencing with criminal profiles, and that any perjury is punishable by the law. 

Her pen hovers over the box labeled “Relationship”. 

Parent. Husband. Wife. Child. Other; please specify. 

She doesn’t have the time. She strikes a check-mark beside a lie and wishes that it wasn’t. 

*

In the middle of the night, Emma stirred awake to Regina moving about in her bed, the box springs squeaking just like hers did. Clinging desperately to sleep, Emma didn’t open her eyes and soon was unconscious again, after the squeaking had stopped. 

The clock on the bedside table between them read 3:15 when Emma woke again to the fan and emanating light from the adjoining bathroom, but the door was soon closed. Quietly. 

Emma fell back asleep. Her dreams were upsetting. 

She awoke to stillness in the room. The red numbers on the digital clock told her she had hardly managed an hour. She shut her eyes and buried her face in her pillow, forcing sleep to return and wanting to scream. 

The silence in the room was deafening. Disconcerting. She rolled over, looking through the darkness for Henry. He lay sleeping in the same position on his side that he had been in when he had passed out watching the  _ I Love Lucy _ marathon. She watched his shoulder rise and fall, several times, before looking to Regina’s bed. 

She found it empty. 

She found Regina outside, sitting in one of the paint-chipped patio chairs, her knees drawn up to her chest, typing away on her phone. The sound of the door opening made her jump, nearly sending the phone to the concrete below, but Regina held onto it tightly.

“Emma,” she breathed, calming back down.

“Hey.” Emma said, eyebrows creasing. “You ok?” 

“You should be asleep.” 

Emma deadpanned. “Yeah. No shit.” 

Regina looked away, rolling her eyes. 

Emma stepped outside, gently closing the door behind her but not letting it lock. The way Regina had done. Folding her arms across her chest, the night time desert air surprisingly chilly, Emma shuffled over to her and took the opposite chair. The metal was cold, her body still warm from her bed. She shivered slightly and sat on the edge, wishing she’d been wearing socks. “Wanna tell me what’s got you so worried?” 

Regina didn’t say anything. She only looked out across the parking lot, into the dark, star-gilded wilderness. 

Emma looked out too, fast growing cold but content to sit for a while. She hadn’t seen this many stars in a very long time. Not even during her time spent in the Enchanted Forest had she witnessed such a sky. Not even in Neverland, when she and Regina had moved the moon to save their son. 

*

“No,” she grumbles and strikes through her choice, and then immediately regrets the decision. Now, she has to give an explanation. Now, she has to be clever. She laments that she did not stay the course, that she let fear push her around. 

This is not who she is. This is not who she wants to be. 

She doubles back and circles “Wife”, several times. 

It’s a mess, but it’s clear what she means. 

If Henry notices what she’s doing, he offers no commentary.

Regina has her own ways of sorting through her problems. He has his. Grabbing his shabby paperback copy of “The Prisoner of Azkaban” from his knapsack, Henry begins to read and leaves his mother to her questions. 

If she needs any help answering, he’ll be more than willing to oblige.

But he trusts that she knows what she is doing. 

*

“...I’m worried,” Regina said finally, so quiet, almost inaudibly, “that something bad is going to happen.” As if giving voice to the fear would somehow make it real. 

Emma exhaled, biting her lip. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. “Figured it had to be something like that.” 

Regina looked at her. “So?” It was less of an accusation, and more of a genuine question. Proposed as though Emma held all the answers. 

“So… I think… It’s understandable that you’re worried, but…” She shrugged, lacing her fingers together in a way that, she realized, was a close mimicry of Dr. Hopper. “...you can’t always be waiting for the other shoe to drop.” 

Regina’s eyes narrowed, accusing this time. 

“I mean it,” Emma protested. “You’ve got to find a way to relax. Maybe, once we’re on the river, you’ll see--” 

Regina scoffed. “Yes, once we’re caught in a water-sport game of chance between drowning and blunt force trauma--” 

“Look, you said that you were fine with--” 

“I am!” she said, a little too loudly. They both stilled, listening to hear if they had woken Henry. Or their pesky little Howdy Neighbor. “I am,” Regina repeated, quieter. “I am fine with the risk. But-- with Henry and-- I thought that I could, but…” 

Emma’s expression softened. She slowly reached across and touched her arm, her skin cool beneath her fingers. “Nothing bad is going to happen, Regina.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“Yeah, well, neither do you.” Her fingers wound gently over her arm, thumb grazing her elbow. “So… why waste time worrying? Hmm? Why not just have some fun, while you can?” 

Regina opened her mouth to argue but she couldn’t find the words. She stared at Emma, jaw running slack, then looked to the hand on her arm. She closed her eyes, sighing. 

“I know it’s not true. I know there’s no logical reasoning behind it. I just… feel like I’m going to be punished for this. For… having fun.” For being happy. “Some way or another.” 

Emma looked like she’d just swallowed a handful of salt. She thought Regina had moved beyond this. She thought, after Regina had cast her first light magic, that she had been able to prove to herself that she wasn’t evil. Emma hated seeing her growth diminished. “You’re right. It’s not true.” She squeezed her arm, just a little tighter. “You’ve worked too hard to still be who you think you are. You’ve changed so much, Regina.” 

But Regina’s guilt was too strong for her to listen. “And what have I become? If I’m no longer a villian, and I’m certainly not a hero…. Then what am I?”

A look hurt, of deep concern, and something that glimmered like the stars above shone in Emma’s eyes. She leaned in closer. “A person, Regina,” she said, and moved her hand to rest atop of hers. “You’re a person, who deserves another chance at life. Or, at the very least, a fun vacation.” 

Emma smiled, biting her lower lip, and gave Regina’s folded hands a light squeeze, before taking away her phone. 

“Oh, hey, come on- Let me at least finish the email.” 

“You don’t even have service out here,” Emma said, looking at the screen. “Who were you even trying to-- Oh, my god, seriously?”

“She hasn’t sent me her daily report, yet.” 

“You. Don’t. Have. Service,” Emma said and rubbed between her eyes. “Let it go. Everything is fine! My mom has not burned Storybrooke to the ground. I promise.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

Emma dropped her hand and glared at her, and saw that she was actually smirking, threatening to smile. Exasperated, Emma shook her head and ran her tongue along her teeth, behind her pursed lips. Also refusing to smile. She lifted her eyebrows in a challenge. “You tryna tell me that you do?” 

“Yes, as a matter of fact. Storybrooke had been reduced to naught but cinders and ash. I received the message subliminally when Ricky Ricardo was playing Babaloo in episode two.” 

Emma broke first, snorting with laughter that only grew when Regina started laughing too. There were tiny tears in the corners of both their eyes when it finally subsided. They looked at each other, neither able to blink. Regina, exhaling deeply. Emma’s mouth falling open, and then yawning. She shivered a little after. 

“S’cuse me,” Emma said and stretched in her chair, her body having gone stiff with the cold. “Past my bedtime.” 

Regina was already rising, trying not to notice the way the bottom of Emma’s tank top lifted over her stomach as she stretched, or the way the fabric strained over her chest, revealing the pertinent details of her body’s reaction to the chill. “We still have a few hours left,” she said, unnecessarily adjusting the buttons on her pajama top and correcting the drawstring at her waist. Looking everywhere but at Emma. 

A few hours was not enough, but Emma wasn’t going to complain now. “Just promise me you’ll close your eyes and at least pretend to sleep?” 

Regina chuckled. “Very well. I promise.” 

They crept back into their room, noting that Henry had rolled over, but otherwise seemed to have been undisturbed. Their beds squeaked lightly as they got back in, carefully. 

“Check the alarm on my phone, please?” Regina asked in the dark, sounding sheepish. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Emma sighed and did as she was bidden. “We’re all good.”

“Volume up all the way?” 

“Go to sleep, Regina.” 

Regina huffed, but let it go, and the room was quiet. 

Emma watched her, the light from the moon just bright enough to see that her eyes were open. 

“You promised….” 

Regina obediently shut her eyes. Emma’s stayed open, still watching her, until sleep finally claimed them both. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (My most sincere apologies to the Flagstaff hospital and its incredible employees. I've read NOTHING but good things about your wonderful establishment. Blame the necessity of the narrative for the negative image. I take full responsibility. :P)


	3. Operation Peacock

“I understand,” Cindy says into the mouthpiece of her headset. She does not look happy. “I’ll do what I can, but I can’t promise--” She flinches and lifts speaker from her ear. A loud, shrill voice is shouting on the other end. 

Regina sees this as she is walking, calmly, to the front desk. The clipboard in her hand feels heavier than it is. She’s not sure if she should wait to turn it in or--

Cindy is waving at her to hurry up. Regina does, her steps quickening to an awkward staccato, her heart matching in pace. 

“Yes, Ma’am,” Cindy says, not to Regina but to whoever is on the line, as she takes the clipboard back. “No, Ma’am.” She begins processing the paperwork, effortlessly multitasking once more, as if she is made for the job. “I won’t let you down.” 

Regina waits quietly, biting her tongue, as Cindy ends the call and shakes her head. “I don’t get paid enough for this…” she mumbles to herself, almost inaudible. She flips a page and pauses. Regina clenches her hands by her side. With a sigh, Cindy says “You left this part blank,” and turns the clipboard around to show Regina. “Your relationship to the patient?” 

The question on the form is, more astutely, not blank but entirely crossed out. Answers and all.

“Do you really need to know?” Regina asks, doing her best to sound both civil and demure.

Cindy’s look suggests she is running out of patience. “That is why it’s on the form. We’re legally obligated to--” 

“Wife, then,” Regina says, cutting her off and casually shifting away her gaze to the floor. Innocuous. Irrelevant. “We’re married.” 

*

Regina woke up before the alarm. Henry, the moment it went off. Emma woke up almost too late to shower. Regina pressed a fresh cup of hot coffee into her hands and made sure they all got to breakfast in time. 

Excitement was riding high that morning, as well as expectations and anxiety. Motion seemed too slow, sounds too quiet, by comparison. They ate quickly, and checked out. Emma, all the while, kept watching Regina like a hawk. Like a very obvious and obnoxious, however good-intentioned, hawk. 

“Will you stop that?” she hissed privately as they were zipping their windbreakers. “I know the sneakers suggest otherwise, but I don’t plan on running.” 

Emma gave a slanted smile and laughed off her awkwardness. It was all so surreal. She couldn’t remember the last time, if ever, that she had seen Regina Mills wearing athletic shorts, let alone ones cut so high. Her own baggy cargo shorts suddenly made her feel under-dressed, or over-dressed; she wasn’t sure. “Sorry. I just want to be sure you’re--” 

Regina pointed a finger at her. “Things are going to be just fine, just like you said, right?” She said it so firmly that it no longer stood as a question but a declaration, and she was daring, threatening, Emma to deny it. 

She simply nodded. “Right.” 

“Then, I’m fine.” Regina said and hoisted her pack. Emma did the same, turning her back and hiding her smile from Regina. “Did you remember to put on sunscreen?” 

“Yes,” Emma and Henry responded together. She and Regina tuned to look at him, realizing that he had been listening. 

“What?” He said, looking at them back and forth, then shrugging and marching off with his duffle. “C’mon, moms.” 

Orientation began promptly at nine, in the large dirt lot next door. The whole river group was much larger than either of his mothers had anticipated. Which, Emma was quick to point out, would only benefit their efforts to keep a low profile. There were over 20 people, adults of all ages, a handful of couples, and one other, older, child. Everyone stood milling about, some casually making introductions, some preferring to keep to themselves and their early morning coffee. Emma and Regina, of course, were among the latter. 

Henry, though aware of keeping certain secrets, was far more inclined to socialize. He found Michael Howard, whom he had met at dinner the night before, and together they got introduced to 17 year old Jamal and his dad Jeffery Kingston, from California. Within minutes, Henry had them all deciding they should team up and become friends. 

Neither Emma nor Regina could understand where he had inherited such easy social skills. Then they thought about it. 

“Snow,” they both said and laughed about it, but then grew serious as the river guides called them all to attention.

“Good morning! Good morning!” clapped raft captain Abby, a tan young woman with tight coils of dark red hair. She smiled brightly, her attitude infectious, as she led everyone to stand in a large circle. Henry returned with Michael and his family to stand next to Emma, who was standing next to Regina, who happened to be joined by Karen, who had smiled somewhat at Regina but otherwise said nothing. Abby was already busy introducing herself and her fellow river guides, ticking notes off a clipboard. She moved fast, efficient, intent on getting them on the river as soon as possible. 

She was helped by Gary, her boyfriend, and co-captain aboard boat A. “That’s A for  _ Alpha _ ,” he said as they all passed out large dry bags for duffels and backpacks, demonstrating how to properly protect their belongings from the water. 

“Yeah, and boat B, for  _ Badass _ ,” said the short, mohawked Sharon as she jumped to high-five her co-captain Clint, the quiet gentle giant. “Everyone knows boat B is the best.” 

“It’s not a competition, Sharon,” Gary said and smiled at Regina, approving of her packing technique. “... Until it is,” he said with a small wink and moved down the circle to help inspect the others. Karen’s bag he didn’t bother checking. She clearly knew what she was doing. 

*

Cindy is staring at her. Regina can see out of the corner of her eye, as she refuses to stare back but instead examines her nails with feigned nonchalance, that Cindy isn’t moving. That she’s waiting for something else. Eyes sweeping under her heavy lashes, delivering a dark glance sideways, Regina lifts her brow. “Yes?” 

“...Your wife? Honestly?” 

A muscle in Regina’s cheek twitches. She does not dignify the question with a response as she turns her head, slowly, as a great cat does before stalking its prey. 

Cindy pales but does not back down, cocking an eyebrow, questioning Regina silently. 

She, however, only continues to cast silent curses with her eyes. 

Cindy picks up a pen, hovering it over the document. “... Are you sure about that?” 

There is a very fine line between smiling and baring one’s teeth. The grin that appears on Regina’s face exists precisely on that very fine line. She crosses it, with a flourish, as she says in a dulcet tone so sickeningly sweet it can only be toxic, “Why, of course. We’ve been married for years. We’re positively ga-ga for each other. Practically inseparable. So you must understand... I’m growing quite anxious to see her again.” She steadies a hand that has begun to shake in her blossoming rage, folding it with the other on top of the counter. “Are there, by any chance, any other impertinent details you need to know now, or can we move on?” 

*

“Before we get on the bus,” Abby said, satisfied that all the people on her roster were present and ready, “I want to turn the mic over to y’all for a sec. Go ‘round the circle and share a bit about yourselves, including any useful experience, and what you hope to gain from this trip. There are no wrong answers, I just want to be sure I have you all on the right boats.” 

“I really hope we get boat B,” Henry said, glancing at Clint who was carrying three dry bags, single-handed, to the back of the bus. 

“I don’t mind starting us off,” Karen said, hands on her hips, looking ever so much like she’d just conquered and laid claim to the whole parking lot. “Hi, I’m Karen. Health, nature, and animal rescue enthusiast. This will be my third time on the river. I grew up in Arizona, so the canyon is basically my backyard. I usually like to take longer, more advanced expeditions, but this is the only one I could schedule… on my birthday!” She made jazz hands by her side, signaling for applause. And she got some, but clearly not enough, as could be judged by her failing expression. 

“Happy birthday, Karen,” Emma said, feeling awkward for her, having to celebrate with apparent strangers. 

“It’s not until Friday,” Karen said, not looking at her. 

Her focus, instead, had been put on the handsome man with salt and pepper hair on the other side of the circle who had whistled, smiling as he asked, “And how old are you?” 

"A lady never reveals her age,” she said, feigning coy and enjoying his attention. “But I’m a Gemini, and newly single,” she said with a lilt, and he laughed. As did a handful of others. Her smile remained, fixed and mirthless, as she folded her arms and listened to the rest around the circle. 

There was Angie, and her mother Guadeloupe, celebrating Loupe’s finalized American citizenship. Then there was Zach, and Greg, and Brian; fraternity brothers from the class of ‘88, stoked to be crossing the final item off their graduation bucket list. The man standing next to them, the one with salt and pepper hair, had looked Brian over with a suggestive smile and said, “I’d would Sigma your Chi.” To which, Brian had blushed and his buddies all fell to pieces laughing. 

The taller, blonder, man next in line rolled his eyes. “Hello, I’m Steven, and this beautiful disaster is Adam. Ignore him.” Adam flashed a cheeky grin to the group and everyone said hello, just as they had done so far for everyone else. “We’re from Vermont and this is our… gosh, what now, tenth?”

“Eighth.” 

“No, really?” 

“Trust me, sweetie. I know.” Adam turned to the group. “This is our eighth expedition, but our first on the Colorado. And, our first as newlyweds!” 

Everyone began to clap, a few people cheered. Emma among them, Regina noticed. 

She also noticed that Karen, beside her, looked like she’d just been slapped. 

“Barking up the wrong tree, were you?” Regina said to her, laughing a little at her stunned expression. 

Karen blinked. “Apparently.” And she frowned, grumbling. “It’s painfully obvious, now that I know. But, honestly. Do they have to go around flaunting their lifestyle?” 

*

“I hope I don’t sound like I doubt you. I just… find it a little hard to believe,” Cindy says and begins typing information into her computer. 

“I hate to break it to you,” Regina says, sounding as though she’d rather enjoy breaking her neck, “but that’s exactly what doubt is.” 

Cindy has the decency to look embarrassed. “Well, I mean… You gotta admit. It is a bit unexpected. Nothing wrong with it, of course, but with the age gap especially, I just…” 

Regina is staring daggers. 

Cindy swallows and, with a weak smile that does not cover her gaffe, she returns her attention to the computer. “Sorry... I’ll keep my opinions to-”

“Yes.” Regina leans in, fingers gripping the desk’s edge like a vice. “You do that.” 

*

Regina wasn’t sure what to make of that remark. Yes, Steven and Adam were disgustingly cute together, enough to give Snow and Charming a run for their money, but why would that bother Karen personally?

“True love, like a sneeze, cannot be concealed,” Guadeloupe said pointedly to Karen, wagging a wrinkled finger. 

“Mama, that’s beautiful,” Angie commented. “Who said that?”

“I did.” 

“Actually,” said the next camper in sequence, a poetry professor from New York named Tabitha, “I do believe that she’s paraphrasing Herbert. ‘ _ Love and a cough cannot be hid.’ _ ”

“That’s just what I said,” Loupe insisted. 

“That’s what George Herbert said.” Tabitha maintained. “What you said was much better.” 

Regina meanwhile had been caught up short by Loupe’s turn of phrase and had been staring absently at the old woman since. Eventually, she caught Regina’s attention and nodded her head with a slight smile, directing her attention back to Emma. It took some time for Regina to look.

When she did, however, she was surprised to see that her face had hardened. Suddenly tense. Almost angry. “...Emma?” 

“It’s nothing.” But she wouldn’t look at Regina.

“And we’re the Howards,” said Michael’s father. “I’m John, this is my wife Merideth, and this is our son, Michael.” 

The group said hello, on rote, sounding increasingly desperate to be done with introductions and moving on. 

“None of us have done this before,” Michael said, “but I’ve been to sleep-away camp loads of times, so it shouldn’t be too new. For me, at least.” 

“I’ve never even been on a zip-line,” Merideth joked. “So, I’ll be staying in the back of the boat.” 

“Don’t worry, I will--,” Karen began, but was spoken over by Henry. 

“I’ve never ridden a zip-line either, but I’ve had a handful of adventures elsewhere.” 

“Yeah?” Michael asked. “Where at?” 

“Oh. Nowhere like this.” 

Emma snorted. “Nice deflection, kid,” she murmured, her face relaxing again. She glanced at Regina, who was still watching her with a curious and concerned expression. Emma opened her mouth to speak, but Henry was still going on. 

“Anyway, I’m Henry. I guess I’m the baby of the bunch, but I’m ready for anything!.” The group chuckled and his mothers smirked. “And these are my moms.”

Time seemed to suspend itself in that moment, tightly condensed, and so many things happened at once. 

The whole group seemed to breathe out. Some audibly. Someone cooed, “Oh, how sweet,” and another, quieter voice, said, “Called it.” Karen took a small, careful, step aside. Henry kept on speaking, something about needing to get away from the ordinary. Regina, confused as to why no such fuss had been made over other families, tried to find the answer in Emma’s eyes and saw more there to read than time would allow. 

Already, licking her lips and clearing her throat, Emma was taking her cue, launching into an automatic response as time resumed its pace. “Hi, I’m Emma,” she said, struggling to turn her gaze away, ears burning. “I’m a county sheriff. Small town, in Maine.” She swallowed. “This is my hard earned… first ever, actually… family vacation.”

The realization was hitting Emma harder than she might have expected. So much for laying low. Pain was slowly etching its way across her face, despite her forced smile. A lump had caught in her throat. People were starting to stare. 

A hand, warm and comforting, was soon at her back.

“And, I’m Regina. I’m in politics. Please don’t ask me about it. I’m on vacation, too.” 

Everyone laughed, graciously diffusing the tension, including Henry and then even his mothers. Everyone let it go, except for Karen who was already collecting her things and taking herself to the bus, not even waiting for the official call to board. Emma looked at Regina, and she looked back at her as the circle continued to dissolve around them. Neither could read the other. There wasn’t enough time to explain the moment that had just been lost. 

Emma gave a small smile and Regina removed her hand, donning her sunglasses.

“Ok! Let’s head ‘em up, move ‘em out,” Abby called, and they all packed into large grey buses for the quick trip to Lee’s Ferry, River Mile 0. 

*

Cindy is painstakingly meticulous; acquiring, transferring and filing away data methodically. Excruciatingly so. 

Regina still stands in wait. The cold air from a vent above begins to blow on the back of her neck, on her sun baked shoulders. She hardly registers the temperature change, even as her body tenses with the chill. An ache at the base of her skull is forming, throbbing dully. 

“You can take a seat,” Cindy says, not breaking from her labors, closing a stapler upon a neat stack of documents. “I’ll call you up when we’re ready for you.”

Regina, however, doesn’t move. 

“It’s going to be a while,” Cindy says. 

“I don’t mind.” 

Cindy shrugs. “Your call. But you’re going to regret those shoes.” 

Regina’s nostrils flare. “And just how long should I be expecting to wait? I haven’t even been told the first thing about her condition, her doctor, her treatment.... I can only assume she’s in some sort of intensive care, but you wouldn’t possibly know anything about  _ that _ , now would you?” 

“Mrs.--” Cindy glances at the screen. “Mrs. Muller, it’s a very busy time for us right now.”

“It’s Mills,” she spits. “I’ve written that plainly.” 

Cindy frowns and references her clipboard, frowning deeper. “My apologies, Mrs. Mills, but I do need to ask you to remain patient while our team does their best to--” 

But Regina’s had enough. “All right. Look here, Linda--” 

“...It’s Cindy.” 

“Yeah, I don’t give a damn. Either you tell me what’s going on with Emma, or I’m getting behind that desk and finding out for myself.” 

“Threatening me will only get you escorted from the premises,” Cindy counters, putting on a petulantly brave face even as her fingers reach for the security alarm. 

“Are you sure you want to find out what happens if you touch that?” There is danger in Regina’s eyes, and hidden fire. “Just how fast do you think your precious security boy can run? Faster than I can swing my fist? It’s a good thing we’re already in a hospital.” 

Cindy stares at her. Scared. “...You wouldn’t dare.”

Regina’s laugh is a snarling menace. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.” Her voice drops to a deadly whisper. “Tell me what you know.” 

*

The raft was classified as a J-Rig; motorized, large, and heavy. It was an assembly of thick inflated rubber pontoons, bandied together much like a traditional log raft, that provided plenty of deck space to roam. There were cushioned benches mounted over storage units in the back, for those who preferred a drier, less intense ride, and for those who sought greater thrills, long portions of pontoon jutted up front that could be straddled and ridden like a bucking bull over the rapids. 

Regina, despite her concerns, promised them that they would not be trapped in the back, and agreed to ride in the middle along the starboard, safely leaning back against the bulk of the boat. 

Due to the sheer size of the raft, the chances for flipping or some other catastrophe were low. The powerful, and surprisingly quiet engine also meant no paddling was required, thus allowing all hands to hang on to the boat at all times. Emma had been a little disappointed when she had agreed to giving up the oars, but admitted that it was most likely for the best; none of them were avid adventurists and this was meant to be a vacation, not a personal fitness challenge. The outfitter they had chosen promised fun for all levels of experience, for families and those flying solo, and that they would equip them with all they could need. So far, the company was as advertised.

And they weren’t the only ones going on the river that day. One outfitter was already setting off from the shore with an entire bachelorette troupe. Another was still loading provisions and awaiting the arrival of its company. All the river guides waved and chatted and exchanged radio frequencies, before calling their group to attention. 

Passing bags from bus to boat in an assembly line, they were given a lecture on proper rig handling and how to safely enjoy their adventure in the canyon. 

“And ultimately, while you’re having fun,” Gary said, “remember that the canyon will come out on top of any battle for dominance. Do not try to take on more than you know you can handle. Baby steps, first and always, before you do something new.” 

“Exactly,” said Sharon, strapping down the final piece of tarp. ““As we go along, the territory may change, but we will always be surrounded by the results of our choices. One wrong step can lead to a world of hurt, so don't be afraid to ask for help. Your best friends are your teammates. Keep them close.”

They had been split into groups. Emma, Henry and Regina were sent to boat B, much to Henry’s delight, and along with them came the Howards, the Kingstons, Lars and Gretchen, Denise. 

And Karen. 

Emma watched her as she made a beeline to the front of the rig, taking the lead position astride the center pontoon. 

“Hey,” Regina said, pulling on her wrist. “What’s up?” 

Emma had, apparently, been frowning. Consternation set in the faint lines around her eyes, but she blinked a bit and brought her attention back to what she was doing. “It’s nothing.” 

Regina clearly did not believe that. 

“It’s… I dunno.” Emma glanced back at the boat. “Karen’s just kinda rubbed me the wrong way, I guess.” 

To which, Regina chuckled. “She does have a bad habit of doing that.” 

“Yeah.” Emma sounded distant. Unsure. 

“...Emma?” 

But she shook her head and accepted the life vest handed to her. “I’m good.” 

“You sure?” Regina asked, accepting her own vest and looking at it with thinly veiled distrust, as if it held ulterior motives and a willingness to betray her. 

“Sure, I’m sure,” Emma said, buckling and tightening the straps, and forcing her smile to shine. “Are you? Still one last chance to make a run for it.” 

Regina smirked and put on her vest. “Oh, shut up and get on board.” 

*

“It’s... like I already said, Mrs. Mills,” Cindy says evenly, however scared, as her hand slowly retreats from the alarm button. “Everyone here has a full plate right now. And communications don’t always reach me on the minute, not even on our best days.”

“You should know that I can smell horseshit, Brenda.” 

“It’s Cin--” 

“And, like I already said, I don’t give a damn.” 

Cindy’s lips are disappearing, drawing tight and so very thin. Her chin quivers with obvious frustration. “Your... wife... is in transit. And I will come and get you, like I said, when she’s ready.” 

“And how long will that be?” 

“Well, you know, it’s hard to say exactly when she’s not even here.” 

Regina blinks. “... Excuse me?”

*

Only a few minutes on the water, and serenity had fallen fast around them. The river was calm, wide, and deep green, lowly nestled between sweeping mountain ridges that grew steadily higher up, up into the sky. Large clouds like cotton cast the sun into dappled view. The breeze was strong, and it whistled in their ears as they sped smoothly down the water. 

With Henry sequestered safely between them, Emma and Regina caught each other exhaling, relaxing at the same time, and smiling, turning to watch as the canyon began to make its first true appearance. 

Clint, at the rudder, his voice low and booming, began to sing and Sharon soon picked up the harmony. Gary and Abby, picked up the song on their boat, a measure behind. They sang in a round, about a river that missed the sea because it always flowed back to where it started. 

After several loud melodic minutes, with several others joining in the song, many off key, Regina seemed ready to swim the length of the journey. “Is it too late for me to run?” she asked, pretending to glare at the singers who insisted that she sing along. 

Henry was laughing like crazy, trying hard to keep tempo Emma’s smile was a million watts. 

“Get used to it.” She said and clapped a hand to Regina’s shoulder. “Welcome to your vacation.” 

Regina reminded her, “Our vacation.” 

“Pssh. Semantics,” Emma said and busied herself retrieving her hat from her day bag. Large and floppy, with protective bug netting, it had to be the ugliest thing Regina had ever seen anyone wear. “What?” Emma asked, pulling the drawstring under her chin. 

“Are you rafting or bee keeping, Ms. Swan?” Regina asked, amazed how even such a horrible accessory did little to diminish the glow of her smile. 

“Ask me nicely, and I’ll get you one just like it.” She flicked the brim of Regina’s baseball cap. 

“Look!” Henry called, pointing up. The Navajo Bridge, the last sight of modern influence, stretched across the top of the canyon ahead. Beyond that, beyond bends in the river and the narrowing, towering walls of rock, began a low rumble, a whispering roar. 

The boat sped up, catching a stronger current. Green water splashed and broke in white crests as the pontoons rolled over the first ripple. Not yet a rapid. Not hardly. 

Single ripples became frequent, then sequential, and then, steady as she goes, there was a decent rapid, short-lived and simple. And back to smooth water in a second. 

Soon, there came a long bend and the growing sound of rushing water echoing ever louder along the enclosing walls of giant stone. 

The guides caught the current. Henry hooted with the rising din of excited shouts and expectant cries. Emma started giggling, biting her lip, eyes alight. Regina pressed herself deeply into her seat, feet squared, legs anchored. Emma placed her hand atop of hers, holding on to the handle with her.

“Take a breath. Here we go.” 

*

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘NOT HERE’?” 

“I mean she’s still in transit. Getting here from the canyon takes some time, and--”

“I DROVE HERE FROM THE CANYON. SHE LEFT BEFORE I DID. HOW DID SHE--”

Cindy is rising, her chair rolling away on squeaky wheels as she steps back. “Ma’am, please! I need you to calm down and stop yell-

“No, Becky, not today! Don’t you EVEN start with me, you sniveling little weasel! I want to know where Emma is. This. Instant.” 

Her ears are thudding with the hammering beat of blood rushing through her veins, like molten lead. The beating grows faster, louder, roaring, rumbling. She feels is in her feet, vibrating through the floor. The sound is muffled, distant, emanating not from within her head but from beyond the building walls. From above. 

“...I do believe she’s here now,” Cindy says and Regina turns, heels striking the floor, cracking like pistols, with every stride she makes toward the sliding doors and the arriving helicopter. 

*

“LAND.” Henry had fallen to his knees when they took their first stop at river mile 20. “Sweet, sweet land,” and he rolled to his back, positively soaked through and now covered in sand, laughing and exhaling. “That was awesome.” 

The rafts had ripped through the Soap Creek rapid, and then the waves of House Rock rapid had come washing overhead. Regina had been tossed, nearly losing her seat when the boat nose dropped over a wall of water, sending them careening down into a splash of cold that took their breath away and, rising up again, threw them back into sunlit sky just as quickly. 

Like riding a roller coaster within a tidal wave, or through a hurricane on the back of a dragon. 

House Rock had managed to unseat Emma, sending her to slip below to the floor. Regina, wiping water from her eyes had panicked for a second, only a second, before she found her at her feet, dripping wet and laughing wildly. 

Seeing Regina’s fleeting face of concern, Emma had held onto her knee as the water eventually calmed, letting go after she caught Karen’s scrutinizing stare from across the deck. She hoisted herself back up next to Henry, beaming and ignoring her completely. “Fun, huh?” 

Regina had to admit it. The ride was more than she had been expecting. 

“Are you gonna say it again?” Emma asked as she disembarked, helping Regina off the boat. 

“Say what?” she said absently before turning to her son. “Henry, get up, you’ll get sand fleas.” 

“Awww, you know what! C’mon, I only get to hear it so often.” 

Regina was busy brushing Henry off. “Must I celebrate you every time you’re right? I don’t get a parade for every brilliant idea I have.” 

“That’s because Queen’s are  _ always  _ right,” Henry said before breaking away to join the other boys throwing around a frisbee. 

Standing in the warm shade of a massive natural land bridge, just twenty miles away from where they started, and already the world felt brand new. Regina exhaled softly, smiling as she acquiesced. “You were right, Emma. This time.” 

Emma was wringing the water from her hat. “I do believe the word you used was ‘brilliant’.” 

“Don’t push it, Swan.” Regina chuckled and sauntered over to the cooler, next to where the kitchen was being made; burgers and dogs on the grill, with watermelon desert. “Gretchen, is that sparkling cider?”

“It’s past five o’clock in Sweden,” she said, cracking open another for Regina. 

She wasn’t going to say it, but she was having the time of her life; Regina and Emma, both.

* 

Regina is outside and trying to see the helicopter. She can only see the tops of the whirling blades. She walks, looking around the building. There is no way to the roof. There must be an elevator. Emma is going inside, may already be inside, already beyond where Regina can reach her.

She puts her hands on the sun baked stone, burning her palms, and tries to hold her vision steady as her entire world heaves. And then so does she. 

She is momentarily sick, tossing up the miserable remains of whatever her aching, empty stomach could recover. Gasping, she clutches an arm around her waist until she can breathe calmly again. She wipes her mouth, staggering upright and looking once more to the whirling, slowing helicopter blades above. 

“Emma…” She swallows. Eyes burning in the glare of the sun, heart rending, she growls and slams the side of her fist against the hospital wall. The pain in her hand distracts from the churning inside her gut. 

She heads back, marching with increasing speed, the skirt of her dress flaring out like her temper, turning around the building toward the emergency entrance, her mind entertaining murder. 

“All right,” she snaps, calling Cindy’s attention. “Start explaining. Now.” 

*

Everyone was crowding the water cooler, refiling their bottles before setting off again for more adventure. Hardly past one, and already the temperature was soaring. More clouds had mercifully started to roll in, shielding them from the sun, but the heat remained trapped inside the canyon walls. 

Throughout lunch, the guides have had their eyes to the sky, quietly discussing the threat of potential weather. Emma could now see the ominous clouds creeping in behind them, coming in dark and heavy from the north. 

They had been warned of possible rain at orientation. Frankly, since the state was in a drought, the guides admitted that they could use the soaking. “It’s just the lightning we need to be cautious about.” Though, protected by the high walls of the canyon, they were actually much safer here below than above on the rim. But the chance of electricity on the water was never worth the risk. And, finding a campsite before nightfall was a critical question that required much advance planning. 

The four guides, eventually, decided to be conservative. The first day was always a long one anyway, full of exhaustingly strong rapids and extreme ranges of emotions, and some people were already clearly getting tired. They’d take their first camp at Shinumo Wash, less than ten miles downriver. 

Loading back onto the boats, however, they were approached by Sharon and taken aside. “Hey, just wanted to check in. See if there had been any issues.” 

The three of them exchanged perplexed looks. “No, I don’t think so,” said Regina. 

“Something wrong?” Emma asked, taking a small step forward. 

Leaning closer, Sharon lowered her voice. “We’ve just had a few complaints about someone in company B and wanted to be sure you were all feeling safe.” 

Emma’s spine stiffened. 

“What was that?” Regina frowned. 

“It may be just a misunderstanding,” Sharon said, a little louder for her to hear. “But we just wanted you to be absolutely aware that this is supposed to be a safe space. We want you to be able to relax and be freely who you are. But we won’t tolerate discrimination, and we’ll have your back one-hundred percent if there’s ever an issue.”

Emma, her expression unreadable but far from comfortable, looked up at the boat and saw Karen taking her spot again at the front, and she nodded. “Thanks, uh... for the heads up.” 

Sharon held out her fist and Emma, awkwardly, bumped it with her own. “Don’t mention it, kiddo.” 

That managed to break Emma’s tension, and she laughed lightly; Sharon was almost half her age, though she spoke with at least ten times as much confidence. Emma couldn’t recall ever being so sure of herself… 

Henry was markedly concerned as they made their way aboard. “Ma… what did Sharon mean by discrimination?” 

“Uhh…” Emma fumbled a little with the straps on her life preserver, struggling to answer him. “Regina, do you want to explain this one?” 

But Regina hesitated. “I... was hoping you would.” 

Emma turned and looked at her, unable to read the expression behind her large glasses, unsure of what she might be thinking. She gulped. “Well, uh… I mean, it’s obvious now, or at least... reasonable enough to assume…” She sat down in her seat next to Henry, Regina doing the same, and continued speaking in an undertone. “I think that Sharon believes we’re a… family. Like a… well, like a married family.” 

Henry’s expression did not change. “Yeah, I figured most people got that impression.”

“It is the logical assumption,” Regina added bluntly. “Given the way we were introduced.” 

Emma saw the way the tips of Henry’s ears turned red, just like how her own did whenever she felt guilty. “Well...” she laughed, trying to offset the anxiety threatening to set her own ears on fire, “It’s not like any of us bothered to correct them, not that we had the time… But, besides, how were they supposed to know the finer points of our particular, uh… relationship? I mean, it’s hardly industry standard.” It was, if anything, unique. Maybe even special. 

“So, what’s the big deal then?” Henry said, his concern growing. “Is someone... angry that we weren’t more honest?” 

“No, Henry. We have every right to remain private. Our lives are nobody’s business but our own.” She sighed, collecting herself. Emma wanted to glance at Regina but knew it wouldn’t help, not when she couldn’t see her eyes. So, she pressed on alone. “Kid, you grew up in Storybrooke, a literal fantasy land, so you might not know this. But, there are some people in this world who… get really upset at the idea of families having two moms or two dads.”

“Or, single parents. As I recall.” 

Emma did look to her then. Impossible for her to know for sure, but she could imagine, from the softness of her tone alone, that Regina’s eyes bore deep understanding.

“What? That’s just… that’s ridiculous,” Henry said, looking around as if he could pinpoint the offending rafter. 

“Yes. It really is,” Regina said, her eyes falling to linger upon Karen. This was explaining her off-color comment at orientation. But, truly, the thought of Karen as threat felt laughable. The nosy woman was a self-professed vegan who still ate cheese and liked reading  _ In Touch _ magazine. She was of no concern to Regina.

Emma, however, kept a constant and watchful eye whenever she drew near. She wouldn’t trust her as far as she could throw her and, feeling as she was, Emma imagined she could throw her pretty far.

*

“Mom! What’s going on?” Henry is intercepting Regina. Joining her. Walking swiftly beside her. “Was that a helicopter? Was that-- is it Emma? How did she--”

“Henry, I’m about to find out. Go back to the waiting ro--”

"No chance in hell, Mom.” 

She doesn’t argue. She doesn’t react to his language. She is zeroing in on Cindy and the helicopter paramedic handing her a clipboard. He nearly drops it, startled and increasingly alarmed by the angry march of the approaching Mills family. 

“Where’s Emma?”

“Yeah! Where’s my Ma? She was supposed to be here ages ago!”

“I’ve received no call, no message, not a single damn word about her since I arrived.”

“And you call yourselves professionals!” 

Henry and Regina make it to the desk, their commotion drawing the attention of everyone in waiting, peering around the corner to watch the scathing melodrama unfold. The paramedic looks like he is about to jump the desk and hide next to Cindy, who is reaching for the security button.

“Save it, Susan,” Regina barks and she recoils her hand. “You owe us answers. Now, spill it.” 

*

The boats were coasting swiftly down river when Henry piped up again, quite without warning. 

“You should pretend to be married.” 

Emma, spluttering, coughed up the water she had been drinking back into her bottle. “I”m sorry. Say what, now?”

“Out of spite. Just to piss them off.” 

“Henry, language!” Regina took off her glasses, blinking at him. “Young man, that’s… a really unexpected streak of vengeance.” 

“Well.” He shrugged. “You did raise me.” 

Regina nodded. “Fair point.” 

“Henry, we can’t do that,” Emma said, still sounding choked. 

"Sure we can. We’ll call it Operation Peacock.” 

“What-- Henry, no.” 

“For all your flaunting.” 

His mothers were gaping at him, gobsmacked and perturbed, as if he had just suggested they all join Karen’s book club. 

“No,” Regina said, firmly. “We will do nothing of the sort.” 

“Yeah, kid,” Emma said, panic and disbelief plain on her face. “Best for us just to… lay low and not start anything.” She checked behind them, looking at Karen who was readying for another round of rapids, none the wiser to the discussion revolving around her. 

Henry, however, noticed Emma’s glance and followed it. “It’s not starting anything, if they already assume that--” 

“No, Henry.” Regina took his chin between her fingers, making him turn and see how serious she was. “At most, this person is an inconvenience. Just something to avoid, like any other rock in the river.” 

Disappointment filled his eyes. “So… you’re just gonna let Karen win?” 

Regina opened her mouth, and lost her words. She inhaled, trying again, and found nothing. She shut her mouth, frowning. “Emma?” 

Emma was lost in thought, looking at Karen, frowning deeply at the back of her head and her aggressive  _ “I’d like to speak to your manager”  _ hair cut.

Regina was waiting. “Chime in whenever you feel like it, dear.” 

Emma whipped back around. “Yeah, sorry... um…. Henry. We aren’t letting her win, we just aren’t… engaging with her negativity.” They were going to let it go. She hoped. 

“So… what then?” Henry asked, looking between. “What do we do?” 

“We do… just what we’ve been doing,” Regina said slowly, covertly watching for Emma’s reaction. “We carry on, and leave well enough alone…. Correct?”

“Yeah.” Emma was avoiding her eyes. “Besides. She’s way outnumbered. I doubt she’ll try anything… bold.” Given what she’d seen of Karen’s brazen personality already, Emma was actually doubtful of that claim. “Whatever. Let her think what she wants. She’s not worth the energy.” 

“Exactly,” Regina said, looking about as uncertain as Emma. “Her opinion doesn’t matter.” 

“Ok… yeah, sure.” Henry was deflating a little, but he nodded, a sage glint appearing in his eyes. “You know what? You’re right. You both know who you are to each other. And that’s all that really matters.” 

Emma and Regina’s eyes met, suddenly staring, drawn like magnets over the top of Henry’s head. The roar of approaching rapids began to fill their ears once more, drowning out the sound of their ever faster racing hearts. 

Regina put on her sunglasses, hiding her gaze from Emma’s before the first splash hit them.

*

The paramedic, clearly unprepared for this encounter, tries to get out of Regina’s way but she corners him, forcing him to face her. 

“Where’s my wife!” she demands, an inch from his face. “What took you so long? Why wasn’t I notified about a delay!” 

The man is opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, struggling to understand what is happening. “You-your wife?” he splutters. The man is not much taller than Regina but is nonetheless bowing under the pressure of her ire.

“Yeah, Maverick, my wife.” The man’s name is actually Tom. It’s emblazoned above the left pocket on his jumpsuit, right where Regina is angrily poking him with her finger. “Where is she?” 

Tom is looking, slightly panicking, back and forth between Regina and Cindy. “I-- Your--  _ Really _ ?” 

“YES. REALLY.” 

He swallows. “I’m sorry-- I just--” His expression is incredulous. “Edith Muller is your  _ wife _ ?” 

*

After surviving another quick-fire round of fast, but horribly fun, rapids known simply as the Roaring 20’s, the boats arrived at Shinumo Wash. Only to find that it was already occupied. 

“Welp. Bummer,” Sharon said. “This site has really cool grottoes and chances to climb. Sorry you’re gonna miss out. It’s one of my favorites...” 

“Might not matter,” Abby said loudly, voice carrying across both river and engines, as she pointed north. The sky was growing darker. “Pretty hard to hike in the rain.” 

Her hands on her hips, chewing her lip, Sharon considered this and looked to Clint. 

“Redwall?” he asked.

Sharon smiled. “If they’re not too tired.” She shouts back to the other boat. “See about Redwall!” 

“Yeah!” Gary gave two thumbs up and turned back to his group. 

“Whaddya say kids?” asked Sharon, looking at everyone on deck. “Do we skip ahead to the next campsite and prepare early for potential weather? Or... do we risk a little rain, press on for another 5 miles, and hit the Redwall Caverns?” 

Everyone cheered for Redwall. 

“All right! That’s the spirit.” 

Despite being already quite tired, excitement arose with renewed vigor among the rafters as they left behind the craggy campsite that was Shinamo Wash. Their collective endurance was almost immediately rewarded. Coming out of a bend in the river, they beheld the gorgeous illuminations of the afternoon sun sparkling through the freshwater oasis of Vasey’s Paradise, just before the light faded. 

Cascading greenery, flowing ivy and moss and bright crimson flowers, draped over the sheer limestone cliffs, the paradise was a falling fountain of white water, spraying out from a thousand feet above and casting a faint rainbow in the mist. 

“Group photo!” Henry called. “Clint! Can we pause for a sec?” 

“Sure, little dude. But just a sec.” 

The clouds were rolling in fast, and getting the angle right (Henry insisted he capture the rainbow in the shot) took more than a few seconds, but it was worth it for the effort. The picture was so perfect, Henry doubted there would be one better. His mothers, each with an arm around his shoulder, were sitting beside him on the raft; the Harold’s behind them to their right, with Michael back to back with Jamal and Mr. Kingston laughing broadly; Lars and Gretchen was behind to their left, with Denise who was making a funny face, next to Karen who was smiling and, apparently, utterly unaware of Adam and Steven kissing right beside her. 

“Remind me to get her mailing address,” Henry said innocently. “I’m sure she’d love a copy of such a nice memory.”

Emma and Regina had to hold back their smiles, not wanting to encourage him, but proud nonetheless. 

Rushing to Redwall had, indeed, been the right choice. A light rain began the moment they arrived and continued intermittently for over an hour. The oppressive afternoon heat was almost non-existent within the cavern, a welcome respite for all. Like a natural amphitheater, and deceptively small from the outside, the massive water-carved walls of red limestone domed and stretched back hundreds of feet, reaching into near darkness, as misty sheets of rain fell through the canyon. The light diffused beautifully. 

Lamentably, they wouldn’t be able to stay the night, per national park regulations, but another popular campsite lay less than two miles downriver. They would be arriving later than they would have otherwise planned, but nobody seemed too vexed. Most were fine trading a rushed dinner for their time spent playing inside the cavern. 

On the sandy shore, waiting for the rain to pass, everyone took their break as they pleased. There was plenty of room to go around. Some tossed around the frisbee while others teamed up, crew versus crew, for a game of wiffle baseball. Someone else even produced a ukulele and filled the cavern with sunny music. The Howards, apparent thespians, took advantage of the incredible acoustics to perform Shakespearean soliloquies with poetry professor Tabitha.

“Got a talent you want to share, Regina?” Merideth asked, after receiving applause for her rendition of his 27th sonnet. 

Regina, however, was busy folding her fleece pull-over into a pillow, having strategically situated herself near one of the walls, still emanating warmth from the sun, a good distance from the showering spray. “I’m a master of closing my eyes and pretending to sleep. Watch and learn.” She shook out her hair, put on her sunglasses, and laid down on her beach towel to hopefully relax and finally dry out. 

Within a few minutes, however, Regina actually did drift off to sleep, the surrounding sound and activity hardly a deterrent. She hadn’t been half as exhausted, or half as content, in a long time. And it felt good. Really good.

*

“... _ Edith Muller _ ?” Regina can’t believe this is real. She must be dreaming.

“Yes. Your wife?” 

“No. Absolutely not.” 

“Who is Edith Muller?” Henry asks. 

“I thought you said the woman in the helicopter...” Tom says, his brow furrowing. 

“I did. My wife!” 

“Sorry, just didn’t expect-- you’re so much--” Tom struggles, looking to Cindy for help. “ _ Younger _ .” 

“... What?”

“Surprised me too,” Cindy mutters to Tom.

“Excuse me!” Regina snaps at them. “My wife is-”

“You mean Edith?” 

“No! Emma! You simple minded--” 

“Wait, wait, wait...” Cindy says, holding up her hands. “Are you looking for Emma Swan or the woman in the helicopter?” 

“Yes!” 

“No, _ which  _ one?” 

Regina hits the top of the counter. “They’re the same!”

“... No, ma’am, I’m afraid not.” 

Regina looks like her brain is melting. This is exhausting, frustrating, to the point of madness. “The woman who just arrived… in the helicopter… that’s… that’s supposed to be my wife. Emma Swan.” 

“You sure about that?” asks Tom, skeptical. “Because I was pretty sure that woman’s name is Edith Muller.” 

“Ma was supposed to be here long ago, though!” Henry says, trying to look over the desk. “Have any other helicopters come in?” 

“No,” says Cindy, turning to her computer and picking up a clipboard, her face scrunching with annoyance. “Clearly, there’s been an error made. One moment please.” 

“A 72-year-old female, failed pacemaker, airlifted from the canyon base at Kaibab trail--”

“Yes, and I’ll thank you, Tom, to remember your HIPAA guidelines for patient confidentiality,” Cindy says curtly as she flips through the pages, and the man buttons his lips.

Regina is glowering. “... If Emma wasn’t the one in the helicopter, and no other helicopters have arrived today… then where the hell is she?” 


	4. She Wants to Know

From her spot in the designated “dugout,” which was nothing more than a series of folding chairs lining the cavern wall, Emma sat waiting for her turn to bat, utterly transfixed by the far away sight. 

She knew that, like herself and Henry, Regina had been working out to get into reasonably good health for hiking and such, but…. 

“Damn, ‘Gina…” she breathed. 

Before taking her rest, Regina had casually stripped down to her swimsuit, peeling off her sodden long-sleeved shirt and shorts and tossing them aside. She now lay napping, glimmering in the pale light, her toned skin still wet from rain and rapids, a purple sarong barely concealing how her tight black suit clung to her in all the right places, and-- 

“Swan! You’re up!” 

Emma jumped and, remembering suddenly that she wasn’t alone, ran up to the home plate, a literal paper plate placed in the sand. Focusing on the ball, and most certainly not on the image of Regina still lingering in her periphery, Emma swung and smacked the plastic ball far away from the boat A outfielders to bounce off the cavern ceiling. She stopped running, panting slightly, at the third base. 

“Of course, you’d be good at this game,” Adam joked, tossing the ball to Kevin on the mound.

Emma almost missed his insinuation but, with a small chuckle, she countered back, “And does your husband always do the pitching, or do you like to switch it up?” 

Adam held his hand to his chest laughing. “Oh, you’re clever.” 

Emma shrugged. “Meh. I try.” 

“I take it your wife is more of the lipstick and lingerie type?” 

“More like magic and murder,” Emma said without thinking and Adam just nodded, taking her for hyperbole. But she had paled, her words coming suddenly back to her ears, like a boomerang striking her head. “She’s, uh… not my wife, either.” The truth was an unexpected compulsion, like a hot iron she wanted to drop that was fast branding her with lies. She flooded with guilt, with wishes she knew she was wrong to make. 

“Oh, my bad,” Adam said, not the least bit concerned. “Catch it, Rick!” The orthodontist missed, but the ball was grabbed by Angie and she tagged out Henry before he could reach first base. 

“Better luck next time, kid!” Emma called. 

“Only if you remember to run bases, Ma.” 

“Oh, yeah…” Her gaze drifted back, without her consent, to the object of her distraction. Regina had not moved an inch. 

“So, when did you two meet?” Adam inquired, half paying attention. 

Emma bit her lip, not sure if anything other than the continued truth would suffice. “A few years ago. See, uh… Well, I had Henry when I was a teen and--” 

“Strike one!” Loupe called out.

“--I gave him up for adoption, to have his best chance at a good life, you know? And then, ten years later--” 

“Strike two!” 

“C’mon, Dad! Slug it!” 

Jeffrey, at the bat, smirked at his son’s heckling and squared his shoulders. 

“Step out, everyone,” Adam called, no longer listening to her. “He’s gonna send it flying!”

Emma rolled her eyes, rueful for ever having tried. “Nevermind. It’s not that great a story.” 

“No, no, tell me later. I want to know,” Adam said, retreating back. 

Steven gave the pitch. Jeffery surprised everyone with a bunt, and tore off for the base. The plastic ball bounced a short distance and sat in the sand. 

“Run, Ma!” Henry yelled excitedly as Steven made a dash forward. “Run home!” 

Emma laughed as she did, legs burning in the sprint, and slid safe across the base, feet first with the ball sailing over her head. Standing up and brushing the sand from her legs, nearly knocked over by Henry as he tackled her in a victory hug, Emma glanced up and saw that Regina had awoken. Sitting up on an elbow, her eyes still hidden behind dark sunglasses, she smirked as she slowly clapped her hands. 

Emma could hardly breathe, winded from the game, with Henry hanging around her neck and far too many feelings crashing within her chest. 

*

“Ah. I think I know what happened,” Cindy says, turning to her keyboard and typing. 

Regina, Henry, and Tom all lean in expectantly. 

“...Well?” Regina asks, fearing that she might not even be at the correct hospital. 

Cindy looks at her over the rim of her red glasses, cocking an eyebrow at her. “Clerical error. I’m not normally one for such mistakes, but I was distracted,” she says, casually adjusting the employee of the year award on her desk, her tone sniffy. “As you might know, since you were the one yelling at me at the time.” 

She turns the computer screen for them to see, but holds up a sheet of paper to limit their view. The screen displays an admittance report, with the name E. Swan at the top. “This report is for the patient received via helicopter. I was taking your call, Carl, when Mrs. Mills interrupted. I should have written E. Muller but, alas, Swan was all I heard.” She turned the screen back around before resuming typing. “An easy fix. Sorry for the confusion.”

“But, you…” Regina exhales, trying not to yell any more, and rubs her face. This doesn’t solve any confusion. It only makes her headache worse. “I still don’t know where Emma is.” 

“Oh. She’s here,” Cindy says simply, as if the fact is redundant. 

Regina is shaking. “And HOW?” 

“She arrived, as most emergency patients do, in an ambulance. I don’t know where you got the idea that she was arriving in a--” 

“Because I saw it! I was there! They flew her out with a fucking helicopter!” 

“Mom….” Henry is looking at the small crowd gathering nearby, watching. He is nervous at the sight of the approaching security guard, and how he is speaking into his walkie talkie. “You’re gonna get us kicked out.” 

Regina looks only at Cindy. “When did Emma get here?” 

“...Just after you did.”

The muted sparks of her magic, lingering beneath the skin of her fingers, unable to surface, is screaming to ignite and burn the whole place to the ground. Regina points at the desert dusted ambulance outside. “In that?” 

“Received from the park’s exchange ambulance, yes.” 

“...Exchange ambulance?” 

“Yes. It was a long distance delivery. We can only send out our vehicles so far. She was exchanged roadside, from the NPS ambulance to ours, halfway from--” 

“ _ ROADSIDE _ ?”

“It’s our standard procedure, for stable patients who--”

“She wasn’t stable!” Regina gasps, disbelieving. “She was-- not exactly--” Regina grips the counter, not feeling so stable herself, her head drooping. This is a nightmare. Her chest is burning and she fears that she is going to be sick again. Or pass out. Or both. 

*

The hour had grown late and the campers weary when their guides finally pulled up to camp, surprising them all, at the geological spectacle of Nautiloid Canyon. There was a rush to get kitchen started, before it got too dark, but Clint and Abby promised that they would all get to go exploring, hunting for fossils in the winding trails, after breakfast the next day. 

While Sharon and Gary cooked, everyone quickly set about making camp. The threat of rain was lingering, though not worrisome, and most were busy setting up tents in lieu of open cots. Others were waiting in line to take advantage of the groover. 

“...Groover?” Regina asked. 

“Yeah, you know. Ye olde loo with a view?” Abby explained. “Apparently, the seat was an afterthought on the original design.” She laughed, taking the key and her turn with the toilet paper. “Remember, the other can is yellow for a reason.”

Regina shuddered at the thought. “And I thought the Enchanted Forest was medieval.” 

By the time everyone had changed, leaving their wet clothes to dry on a bolder overnight, tents were popping up like mushrooms across the shore and the cooks were calling. 

“Dinner!”

Conversation remained light as everyone came to gather, communion style, around the campfire, enjoying the stars as they peeped out through lingering clouds overhead while wolfing down grilled chicken with pasta salad. The food was delicious, unexpectedly so. Regina actually went back for seconds. Emma went back for second helpings, twice. 

As she was clearing her plate, and Henry had run off to set his own tent, Emma watched Regina brush out her hair, or attempt to. The river water, the sand, the wind, and everything else from mosquito repellent to sunscreen had turned her normally sleek and voluminous waves into a curling, twisting tangle. 

“I knew I should have cut it short again, before the trip,” she grumbled, fingers snagging on another knot as she tried to tame the wild mane. 

Emma smirked, whispering. “You normally use magic to do your hair, don’t you?” 

Regina glared at her. 

“Is that why you kept it short during the curse?” Emma understood, of course, from experience. Long hair took work to maintain. And Regina’s hair always looked immaculate. Brushing off her fingers on her pants, Emma put aside her plate and rose to stand behind Regina’s chair. “Here. Let me help.” 

“I’m quite capable, thank you.” 

“Yeah. Capable of making serious split ends.” She held out her hand. “Brush, please.” 

Sighing, but handing it over, Regina folded her arms and sat up straight in her chair. 

Emma worked quickly. Quietly. Delicately. Regina did not say a word. 

“There. That’s better,” Emma said eventually, sending the brush smoothly through her hair, before her fingers followed course, gathering strands and crossing them over, and over, and gathering again, nails trailing Regina’s scalp lightly as she braided her hair. “...Tie?” 

Regina pulled the elastic from her wrist and passed it up to Emma. Their fingers touched for just a moment too long to be unintentional. 

“So, Emma! You were saying earlier?” Emma jumped as Adam came into view, taking her vacant seat with Steven sitting beside him. “I never got to hear the rest, and Stevie’s not heard any of it, so let’s hear it again.” He leaned on his elbow, chin resting in his hand. “How did you two meet?” 

A moment goes by. Regina clears her throat, issuing something that resembles a chuckle but is far too strained. Awkward. Nervously expectant.

“Well?” Emma laughed too, oddly comforted to know Regina was feeling just as embarrassed. “I guess the truth, huh?” She finished the braid, tying on the elastic, quickly as possible. “Regina was actually the one who raised Henry, who I had given up for adoption when I had him as a teen. When he turned ten, the little rascal came and found me and--” 

There’s a collective gasp, Adam covering his mouth and Steven exclaiming. “--Oh, that’s so romantic!” 

A longer moment went by. Emma’s eyebrows had shot up so high they were disappearing into her hairline. Regina had tensed. 

“I... Uh…” Emma started, her vision tunneling. “Yeah. Um, I guess… it is, but we… we aren’t--” 

“We’re friends.” Regina said flatly. She was staring at the fire, her hands held tightly in her lap. 

Emma swallowed, her mouth pressed thin and wide, more of a grimace than a grin. “Yeah. We’re friends.” She nodded. “Good friends.” 

“Oh, honey, so are we,” Steven said, winking with a sympathetic smile. 

Adam leaned closer, conspiratorial. “Didn’t Sharon tell you this was a safe space? You don’t need to lie because of her.” He nodded off across the fire at the other side of the chair circle. Among those sitting there was Karen, watching them. 

The tips of Emma’s ears burned red. “I’m not--” Emma tried, but she couldn’t. “We’re just--” She exhaled, heavily, releasing the soft curl at the end of Regina’s hair that she had absently been twisting around her finger, and left. “I’m… gonna go help Henry with his tent.” 

*

“Mom…?” Henry has his hand on her back. 

She is staring at the tiled floor, watching the faint lines between them fade in and out of focus. “Why… why didn’t anyone call me?” She hates how meek she sounds. 

“To tell you what?” Cindy says coldly, even as she waves off the security guard. He turns to the crowd instead and begins to usher them away. 

“That she wasn’t being flown in!” Regina exclaims, her voice breaking. 

“I... wish I could tell you,” Tom says apologetically and scratches the back of his head. “The radio coulda gone out. Things mighta been too hectic. Our primary focus is always on the patient first, getting them stabilized, managing their pain…. So, really, any number of--” 

“But you were there, weren’t you? You should know--” 

“No, ma’am. I wasn’t. I work for Lifeteam. Private company.”

She shuts her eyes, groaning, and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Well, of course you do. Naturally.”

“Park services has only one rescue chopper. It seldom, if ever, leaves the park. That’s where we come in. Lifeteam does medical evac, not so much search and rescue. My guess is NPS got the call for Mrs. Muller and had to drop your wife off at the helibase before doubling back. They may have never even intended to leave the park in the first place, and somehow you just… managed to miss that detail?” 

A firm knot is seizing within her throat. Her face twitches. “I… wasn’t made aware I could get a private company….” She vaguely remembers the park ranger shouting after her, trying to call her back, but then her memory fades… Guilt increases the pounding in her head as she silently berates herself for being so foolish. For not thinking, for rushing, for making the race to the hospital her sole objective. “I need to speak to the people that brought her here.” She looks through the sliding glass doors at the ambulance; Emma’s transport. There is no one to be seen. 

“The EMTs are still with your wife, working with the trauma team. You’ll get to speak to the admitting nurse soon enough.” Cindy says, frowning as she gives her a glance over. “Can I please get you to sit down, Mrs. Mills? You aren’t looking well.” 

“Yeah, Mom. You’re all pale.” Henry tries to feel her forehead, but she avoids his hand. 

“I’m just… just tired. This whole affair is headache inducing.” 

“I can get you some water,” he says. 

“There’s a fountain down the hall,” Cindy says, pointing to the other side of the lobby. “By the vending machines.” 

“No, thank you. I’m fine.” She straightens slowly, cracking her neck from side to side, and smoothes out her dress. The mask is sliding back on, her pain still barely visible behind it. “Henry, go get our things.” He hesitates, looking at her. “Go on,” she says and he obeys. Regina then looks at Cindy. “If you’re done wasting my time, I’d like to see my wife now.” 

*

“Henry said he didn’t need help with his tent,” Emma said, shuffling through the sand as she lugged over her cot and duffle. The light from the moon was dim, but the canyon was still illuminated enough for them to see how their son was still struggling to attach the tarp without the bungees snapping back. “He’s convinced he can do it himself.” Emma could also see how Regina avoided her eyes. She continued doing the same as she set up her cot outside next to Regina’s tent.

She paused, looking at it. “...They gave you a double?” 

“It just looks big, next to Henry’s. He as a child’s size tent.” 

Emma looked around. “No, he doesn’t.” 

The campsite was full of tents, just like his. Less than a third resembled Regina’s. Abby and Gary were sharing a tent. As were Loupe and her daughter. Michael had his own tent, like Henry’s, but his parents were sharing a large tent and so were the twins, Pamela and Kate. Lars and Gretchen had a tent. And so did Steven and Adam. 

“Well,” Regina said, sighing. “I suppose we should have foreseen this happening.” 

“Explains why I wasn’t given a tent… I thought they’d just run out.” Emma looked up at the sky, up at the clouds closing in to cover the moon, remembering Neverland, and she yawned. “It’s fine.” She rolls out her sleeping bag on top of her cot. “I’m sure it won’t rain.” 

Only two other people were setting up cots; Denise, the geologist, and Clint, who had professed to love the company of nature over most people. Both of them had their tent tarps already draped over their sleeping bags, like an extra blanket. 

“I… don’t mind sharing. Of course,” Regina said. “It’s not like I need all that extra space.” 

Emma remembered her saying almost the same thing when she had taken up her temporary residence in the guestroom of the Mifflin Street mansion. It made her smile, with a drop of sadness just visible in the low light. “Nah. I’m good. Been wanting to sleep under the stars, anyway. Didn’t get to do that the last time I was here.” 

“As you wish, Miss Swan,” Regina said and took to her tent, alone. 

In the middle of the night, just as Regina was managing to finally drift off to sleep, a low rumble of thunder rolled through the canyon and, moments later, there was another, louder. 

Emma came barging into her tent, dragging her sleeping bag. 

“Wha--? Emma!” 

“Sorry, just--” 

“Is it raining?” 

“Just hush and budge over.” Emma threw down her sleeping bag and just lay on top, not bothering to get inside. She curled up quietly, her back to Regina. 

A loud clap of thunder a few minutes later and Emma yelped, the sound muffled in her arms as she held them, shielding, in front of her face. 

Regina sat up on her elbow, half shrouded in her sleeping bag. “Are you afraid of thunder?” 

“No.” She sniffled. 

Regina frowned, but didn’t say anything. Henry had been afraid of thunder, she could recall, and she was just beginning to wonder if she should go check on him when the rain slowly began. Regina looked down at Emma. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable inside your bag?” 

“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable on your cot?” It was folded up, tucked to the side of the tent Emma was facing. 

“Seemed unnecessary. And too narrow.” 

“...They are narrow,” Emma said, and eventually crawled inside the sleeping bag. 

The rain was light, steady, and the soothing percussive rhythm filled their ears, the only sound to be heard for a long time, until a pale flash of light heralded a sound like cannon-fire cracking overhead. Emma whined, and pulled the bag up to cover her face.

Regina remembered what she had said about living on the streets, about how the rain would often force her and other, less savory, individuals to seek shelter, often sometimes together… Regina hesitated. Then, without saying a word, she slowly and simply curled into her, holding her from behind. Emma tensed at first, not flinching but freezing. And, in her next breath, she was relaxing. Before long, with an almost inaudibl _ e “Thank you” _ she was falling asleep, and so was Regina. 

Emma was alone when she awoke the next morning.

*

Cindy grimaces. She is almost timid when she says, “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you see her.” 

Regina stares at her, unblinking, for a long moment. “...And why the hell not?”

"Well…” Cindy swallows, collecting one of the many clipboards in her hand. “For one, I actually need you to refill these forms, since they’re now invalid.”

Regina’s eyes narrow, as dark and threatening as arrowslits on a castle wall. “How is that?” 

Cindy places the clipboard, full of forms bearing Regina’s tidy, curling script, on top of the counter and points to the corner at Edith’s name and hospital identification number electronically printed across every page. “I’m sorry but, to be fair to myself, you didn’t catch the mistake either.” 

Regina is stunned, but not speechless. “The information remains the same. You fill it out.” 

“You’ll still need to sign it.” 

“Then I’ll sign it. But right now, I demand to see--” 

“Mrs. Mills, we can’t. Your wife is in the ER, being examined and treated, and--” 

“And alone!” 

“She’s not alone. She has a fantastic team and--”

“She needs  _ me _ .” 

Cindy’s grimace turns to a look of pity. It revolts Regina, and her disgust is plain. Cindy pays her little heed. “I’m sure she’s lucky to have you, and we’ll get you reunited soon enough. But the ER is dangerous, and crowded, and…” Cindy’s noticing Henry’s return. She lowers her voice. “And not exactly the place for children.”

“Just send me, then,” Regina bargains. “Henry can wait by himself. He’s old enough to--” 

“No. I’m sorry, Mrs. Mills, but no one is allowed back yet. Safety first.” 

Regina wants to argue. The fight is there in her eyes, the last sparks of cinder in a failing fire, but she is realizing the futility of her situation. She will have to wait. Just a little longer. Just a little bit more. She can endure it, if she must. “Very well.” 

Carl, silent and forgotten until now, speaks up, causing Regina to jump slightly. “No offense meant, but can I... get you something to eat, Ma’am? You really are looking faint.” 

“Will people please stop calling me that….” she mumbles to herself, rolling her eyes. 

Henry, though, is now back by her side and coordinating silent efforts with Carl, sending him off with a grateful nod to the cafeteria. “He’s right, Mom. You gotta eat something.” Regina is going to protest, to insist that she can manage on her own, but the man is already disappearing around the corner. “You need your strength. For Emma,” Henry says and she looks at him, aware of how he is pulling at her sense of obligation and promise to get his way, but she still lets him usher her back into the waiting room and accepts the offer of food with nothing more than a bashful glance. As her stomach continues to writhe with anxiety, she wonders how she can possibly avoid eating without anyone noticing. She doesn’t want to disappoint Henry.

Allowing others to care for her is always difficult. But she tries. 

*

Emma wasn’t sure how she had missed the call to breakfast, her favorite meal of the day regardless of what time she ate it, but she had slept soundly through the night after the thunder had ceased, leaving her feeling refreshed. Content, despite her solitary state.

She looked for Regina and Henry but, by now, most everyone had already either started packing up camp or had hiked off with Clint and Sharon to explore the nautiloid fossils and hear about the geological history with Denise. Abby and Gary were almost done breaking down the kitchen, but left waiting on the table was a warm thermos of coffee and a folded paper plate filled with sausage and eggs, and her name written in Regina’s unmistakable cursive on the outside. After eating and putting away the tent, she put on her sneakers and hit the trail up into the canyon, taking the last of her coffee with her. 

The world was quiet, daylight only just fully broken. It was perhaps eight in the morning. Without her phone, or her watch, it was impossible for her to say. The crunch of her shoes on the rocky path, the distant whisper of the river growing fainter as she climbed, the few canyon birds singing in their nests on the walls, and the wind cooling the sun on her back, Emma could not have been more at peace with her surroundings. 

“Hey! You shouldn’t hike alone!” 

Emma stopped, looking back, and groaned. 

“Safety first. Always travel in pairs,” Karen said, wagging her finger. “Wouldn’t want anything bad to happen without help, right?” 

Emma couldn’t argue with her, but that didn’t mean she had to say anything else. And so, as the sun crested over the ridge of the canyon, warming her skin as much as did her increasing annoyance, Emma hiked silently up the path with Karen chattering constantly, insistently, behind her. 

“I thought the coffee was a little burnt this morning. Do you enjoy it that way? I couldn’t even finish mine. Perhaps tomorrow they’ll be more careful. Then again, I might just make the coffee myself. They can always use more helpful volunteers. And I’m used to rising early.” 

It felt like a slight. All of it. Something subtly designed to dig under Emma’s skin. It oddly reminded her of how Regina used to talk to her, back in their earliest days, when she saw Emma as nothing but a threat of ruin. She couldn’t imagine what she had done to Karen to merit such untoward attention, or if that was just simply her poor excuse for a personality.

“I can understand the need to sleep in as much as the next person, but here? You end up missing out on too much.” 

“Then why didn’t you leave with the rest?” 

“Oh, I’ve seen the fossils before. Twice, actually. And there were coyotes on the wall this morning. Far more interesting to observe. Pity you had to miss it.” 

“Well, I’ve seen wolves before,” Emma said, growing competitive and upset with herself that she was taking Karen’s bait. She knew better than to do that. 

“But have you ever seen a coyote? You ought to, if you can, while you’re here. They’re a critical part of the canyon’s ecosystem. More like dogs than wolves. Scavengers, for the most part, so don’t be afraid. They’ll most likely leave you alone, but they’ll follow you if you feed them. So don’t.” 

Emma was regretting having ever fed Karen an ounce of attention. 

Fortunately, the trail was not a long one. Emma soon heard voices, apart from Karen’s prattling, echoing from a narrow vein of canyon before she spied the group at a distance. Clint’s booming bass tones were loudest, even speaking as softly as he did. Emma found she could hear the ongoing tour quite plainly from where she stood, and it gave her an opportunity. 

“Whew!” she said, wiping fake sweat from her brow and stretching her back. “What a hike!” Sitting herself gingerly down upon a large rock, she waved absently at Karen. “You go on ahead. I’m just gonna catch my breath and enjoy the view for a minute.” 

“Great idea, actually. I’ll join you.” Missing Emma’s exasperated expression, Karen dropped her sack onto the rock and pulled out a plastic ziplock bag, holding it open in her hand as she sat uncomfortably close. “Almond?” 

*

Sitting in the waiting room by the corner, in a metal chair upholstered in what she thinks resembles old carpet, Regina eventually accepts a bran muffin, a banana, a bottle of water and an apple juice. Tom refuses reimbursement. 

“It’s the decent thing to do,” he says simply. 

She sets the food aside, for later, and drinks the water. 

“Slowly now,” he says as she empties half the bottle. 

The water is too cold. A shock to an already sensitive stomach still feels better than the intense focus from this relative stranger. It’s distracting. His selfless call to aid is unnerving. She wipes her mouth gingerly with the back of her hand, careful not to smudge her lipstick. 

“Better?” 

Regina merely nods in reply. She looks through frosted glass, at the distorted image of Cindy behind her desk, on the phone once more. She cannot hear what she is saying. She wonders if it is about Emma. Or herself. Or about lady of fortune, Edith Muller. 

Tom is the only reason Regina even believes this other woman exists. This is such an outrageous coincidence, this entire day is, and Regina needs someone to blame other than herself. The burden is becoming too much.

Her anger is radiating enough for Tom to sense it. “You know,” he begins bravely. “I’ve worked with Miss. La-- I mean, Mrs. Stively-- that’s her new name, recently married, you see-- anyway, I’ve been working alongside Cindy for several years now. The number of accidents in the canyon are more than you might think. Not all of ‘em are terrible. Some really don’t even merit the helicopter evac, but…” He shrugs. “My point is, from experience, I know that Cindy’s good at her job. It’s not like her to make mistakes, but she’s doing the best she can. You can trust that this fluke won’t happen again.” 

Regina is not looking at him. Of course Cindy will not try the same trick twice. The nunce. She knows her instincts are to always expect the worst, to her detriment at times, but Regina just cannot bring herself to trust Cindy. Not yet. 

She shivers, for the second time in minutes, the sun-kissed skin on her arms prickling beneath the cap sleeves of her dress. 

"Cold?” Tom asks. 

“I’m fine.” 

“That means she’s cold,” says Henry, who quits pretending to read his book and finds the car keys in Regina’s purse. “I’ll go grab your jacket.” After sitting in the front seat, heat soaked from the sun, the jacket will be a balm. Henry sets off for the parking lot. 

“Be safe,” she calls. “Look out for--” 

“I will! Be right back.” 

Tom smiles at Regina and breaks the seal on the apple juice. “Got yourself a good kid there,” he says, handing it to her. “Very clearly loves his mom. Both of them.” 

Regina smiles sadly. “I don’t know what I did to deserve him.” Or her. 

Her gaze is drifting, following a thought that is certainly not going to help her now. 

“Mrs. Mills?” Tom gets her attention back and she drinks the juice. Slower, this time. Tom seems satisfied and leans against the entryway, keeping an eye on Henry in the parking lot through the sliding glass doors. “You really need to take better care of yourself, or else you’ll end up in here too. And you don’t need that, on top of everything else. Save a little love for yourself.” 

Regina does not argue. She only recaps the juice bottle and places it to the side with the rest. She hates hospitals and is a master of avoiding self-admittance. That will not change today. 

“Right,” Tom says, realizing Regina’s done humoring him. “I’m gonna make sure Cindy moves your information to a new form for you. You can then look it over and sign it, ok? But for now, just…” He shoves his hands in his jumpsuit pockets and shakes his head. “Try to take a moment to breathe. Just breathe and take it easy. No one here is your enemy.” 

*

Clint had passed the tour’s attention to Denise. In her element, excited and animated, if somewhat nervous, she shared her knowledge of the canyon’s ancient geological history as well as several key details of her thesis. She spoke of trilobites, of sea fossils almost a hundred million years old, of natural sediments and rock formations, of precious minerals, and lava flows, and floods, and droughts. Most of it, fascinating as it was, flew over Emma’s head as she listened, for now graciously uninterrupted. Karen had fallen silent, apart from the occasional crunch of almonds. 

But as the tour drew closer, still without noticing the unlikely pair of companions sitting by the trailhead, Emma decided enough time had passed to make a quality exit. “Welp. Time to go look at giant snail fossils. You enjoy your view.” She rose and moved quickly, collecting her pack and her thermos, but not fast enough. 

“Do you have a problem with me?” 

Emma stopped. Nerves prickled along her spine. Karen’s tone was layered, hard to understand. She looked at her, wishing she could just walk away and finding that she just couldn’t. 

“I… don’t want to have a problem with you.” 

“Neither do I.” Karen shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure how, but I think we got off on the wrong foot.” She held out the bag of almonds once more. “Don’t you?” Her arm reached, further extending the offer.

Emma frowned, not entirely sure if she trusted this, but her instinct, like her mother’s, was usually to try and find the good in people. She just had to hope that, like her mother, her instincts wouldn’t come back around to bite her in the ass. She hesitantly took an almond. “It’s possible.” 

Karen smiled, thinly. She patted the rock. “How about we start over, then? Hmm?” 

Against her better judgement, Emma sat down again. She did not eat the almond.

“You’re not missing anything with the fossils, anyway. They look like flat scale-plated caterpillars. It’s a cross-sectional view, very boring. But, I suppose full-surface fossils are harder to find.” 

Emma knew she should not have sat back down. “You sure do know your stuff,” she said quietly, discreetly tossing the almond over her shoulder and wishing Denise would be just a bit louder. Finally, she was able to spy Henry and Regina casually bringing up the rear of the tour, clearly enjoying taking their time to study the surrounding science. The nerds. The sight made her smile. 

Karen, unstoppable, spoke up again. She was quieter this time. And surprising. Disconcertingly. “You must be very proud of your son.”

Emma’s teeth were set suddenly on edge. “... I am.” And she couldn’t stop herself. Before Karen could say anything more, she was correcting her. “Proud of our son.” Emma turned her head and looked her dead in the eye. “Regina and I are very proud, indeed... and very protective, of our son.”

Karen’s smile did not falter. “Of course. What mother wouldn’t be?” 

“Do you have kids?” Emma questioned, sounding more like an interrogation.

“No. But maybe someday soon. I’ve been looking at in vitro.” Her smile growing, spreading like venom, Karen tilted her head. “Are you his real mother? He looks more like--”

“He’s Regina’s son. As much as mine.” If not more so. “She adopted him. Raised him.”

“Yes, but you birthed him, right?” 

“What does it matter?” Emma was rearing for a fight. She recollected her belongings as fast as she could, before she could make any more mistakes. 

Karen had the nerve to look offended. “I was just trying to get better acquainted. I don’t see any reason why we can’t get along. Or even be friends… like you and Regina are, evidently.” 

Emma stopped. Her jaw clenched tight. She knew to just walk away, but instead she turned on Karen with eyes that had gone stone cold. “You know, you might be the only one on this trip to think we are.”

“And isn’t that odd?” Karen simpered, eating another almond, perfectly calm. “It’s unorthodox, of course, but I don’t see why two women couldn’t platonically raise a child together. As the saying goes, after all, it takes a village. Why do people feel the need to make everything gay all the time?” She popped another almond in her mouth and Emma wondered if the sound she heard was her chewing or her own teeth cracking under pressure. 

“So, what about Henry’s father?” Karen asked, still smiling. “Is he in the picture?” 

*

A few minutes later and Cindy is entering the waiting room. She hands Regina a clipboard with pages properly bearing Emma’s name and patient identification number. Cindy bears a stiff upper lip, but her tone is softer as she apologizes for the misunderstanding. 

Regina mutely takes the forms and reviews the transcription carefully. She can tell that Cindy is embarrassed, and justly so, but she does not forgive her yet. 

And she is right not to, because Cindy is already shifting the blame, her defensiveness deriding any remaining semblance of real remorse. 

“You know, if you had matching last names, this whole process would have been much less confusing.” 

Regina flips a page so violently it nearly tears. “Indeed.” 

Cindy does not heed her warning. “Your wife should at least get an updated driver’s license, if she is no longer living in Boston. And is actually working in Maine. As a sheriff.”

Regina mumbles, “I’ll see about that.” She of course will not. Emma’s “real world” ID was an invaluable asset. 

“Look, I get it. I know how it goes. Life gets crazy busy and we end up putting off doing the little things we know we ought to take care of now, but then we just forget…”

“Life has been very busy of late.” She turns the final page. 

“Of course. And it makes sense. Especially if you were only recently married.” 

“Mmm-hmm…” 

Cindy waits a moment. “So, were you?” 

“What?” Regina asks, uncapping the pen. 

“Recently married?” 

Regina pauses. She looks at her directly. “No. I already told you... we’ve been married for years.” 

Cindy clicks her tongue. “Right. You did say that. Silly me.” She rolls her eyes, a weak imitation of self-admonishment. She holds up her left hand, flashing a diamond ring. “I’ve only been married a few months, but let me tell you, it feels like years already!” She laughs. The sound is brassy and too loud. Regina does not share in her humor. She can sense a trap is coming. 

“When, uh…” Cindy says, fiddling with her ring, no longer looking at Regina. “When were you two married?” And there it is; the snare. “Must have been right after Maine made it legal, for it to have been years ago.” 

Regina stares at her with a look that could melt concrete. “Is this information that I should have provided on the form?” She arches an eyebrow. “No? Then I don’t think it’s really any of your damn business.” 

*

Dark red dust lingered on her hands as Regina passed the rock to Henry for him to see. “It’s the abundance of iron that alters the limestone’s natural color and gives the canyon its signature hue,” Denise explained. “There are over 40 layers of sedimentary rock in the canyon, and the right light can really illuminate the differing bands of color. Everything just seems to glow. The effect is downright magical.” Henry and Regina shared a look and a secret smile. 

“Often, through cracks and fissures, river water with high concentrations of copper and aluminum can leave mineral deposits behind that, over long periods of time, will turn into precious turquoise gemstones. The less iron present, the more true the blue will be. Too much aluminum, and the turquoise can be as green as emeralds. It’s one of the oldest known gemstones, first found by the ancient Egyptians, and is believed by many to bring luck, health, and happiness. People around the world have sought and envied this rare…” Denise laughed as a few people in the tour began surreptitiously looking about for hidden deposits. “You won’t find any here, not without some serious digging, which would be a big no-no. But the world famous Sleeping Beauty mine is right near Phoenix, where some of the most prized and flawlessly blue turquoise have been found.” 

Henry passed the rock back to Clint, who resumed leading the tour. “It was the canyon’s cliff-dwelling natives, ancestral tribes of the Pueblo, who first mined for turquoise in Arizona, some think as early as 200 BC. They valued it more than most today would value diamonds. For hundreds of years, artisans have crafted it into jewelry and traded extensively throughout--” 

But Regina was no longer hearing Clint’s story. She had seen Emma, standing with fists clenched by her side, and Karen.

“Stay here, Henry.” 

Taking off her pack before quietly leaving the group behind, she arrived just in time to hear Karen say, “And don’t you see how that could be confusing for a growing boy?” 

“Hey.” Regina spoke with a calm command, her voice cool as jazz. “Having a party without me?” 

Emma’s face was scarlet, and she would not look at her. “Actually, I was just about to leave. DJ keeps playing songs I hate.”

Karen, putting away her bag of almonds, wiping her hands, pursed her lips and gave an exaggerated huff. “No good deed goes unpunished, it seems.” 

Still averting her gaze, Emma stepped closer to Regina. There were tears in the corners of her eyes. She spoke gruffly and low. “I’m sorry. I should have just walked away, I didn’t--”

“It’s ok, Emma,” Regina said and gripped her arm. Steadying. But Emma shrugged out of it, her face screwing tight. She folded her arms across her chest and moved away, not very far but just far enough to not be seen or heard crying. Regina blinked, momentarily stunned, but then rounded on Karen. “What did you do to her?” 

*

There is a look of genuine hurt on Cindy’s face, for a flash of a second, before her usual indifference returns. “My apologies. I was just trying to get the full picture.”

“And are you as thorough an investigator with everyone else?”

“What can I say? I’m a people person,” she deadpans. “I may also be trying to make up for a previous mistake. Forgive me if I’m now suddenly TOO invested in your story.” 

Regina studies her face for a moment, doubt beginning to stir in her mind where normally it would not, before she returns to reviewing her information. She chews on the inside of her lip, growing introspective. Perhaps Tom is right. Perhaps this is all an honest mistake. Perhaps she is just overreacting, leaping to unfair conclusions in the heat of the moment. Or, perhaps not. 

She is only newly aware of this crucial nuance of difference between Emma’s world and her own, beyond that which is obvious, and she keeps finding it everywhere in ways unlike before. She wonders just how much of that is her imagination and what is actually, upsettingly, true. 

She realizes just how far she is currently out of her depth. She’s not a queen here. Not at all. She is just Regina, set loose in a brand new world. The realization is ironic, and twisted, and somewhat bittersweet. It leaves her feeling vulnerable, and she hates that. 

Regina signs the pages with an angry flourish, still not exactly looking at Cindy as she hands them back. 

*

“I was just trying to be friendly,” Karen said with wide, innocent eyes. Regina glared at her audacity, but Karen was unflappable. She rose, arms held out in a mockery of martyrdom. “Is it my fault she can’t handle a bit of honesty?” 

Emma made a harsh noise, something like snarl but swallowed. She wiped at her eyes, angrily, brutally, as if she would rather take a swipe at someone else. 

Regina took a step closer, invading Karen’s space. Her fingers twitched, burning. “What did you say?” 

Karen lowered her chin, standing at her full height, her gaze at an exact level with Regina’s. She was not intimidated. Not in the least. And she smirked. “I was merely inquiring as to the nature of your relationship. For clarity’s sake. I had no idea she would get so bent out of shape.” 

Regina’s nostrils flared, but Emma spoke first. 

“Liar.” 

“What did she say, Emma?” Regina was a weapon in want of ammunition, her sights set on Karen. “Something crass and poorly opinionated? Something as unnecessary as she is?” Karen’s lip curled. Emma did not give an answer. “The nature of your relationship-- who even talks like that? Are you trying to ask if we’re dutifully married?” 

“She wants to know if we fuck,” Emma barked, hurling the expletive at Karen as she turned around. 

“That’s… what I meant,” Regina said, jaw running slack as she looked back at her, at green eyes like broken emeralds, at an expression that bore more pain than Regina had any reason to expect. “...Emma?” 

“Now, really,” Karen said. “There’s no need to be vulgar. Can’t we all be civil?” 

“Oh, well now that’s rich,” Emma said and, with her sights fixed to the ground, stormed off.

“Emma?” Regina called after her. 

“You know, I just can’t wait to see a nautiloid!” she growled from between gritted teeth. “I bet they’re just the coolest, most exciting, best looking--” Her voice soon died out as she disappeared around a large rock, away from the tour. 

“Be careful with her, Regina,” Karen said and Regina snapped around to face her. “I’ve seen the way your ‘good’ friend looks at you. She wants things, dangerous things... even if you don’t.” 

It was utterly astounding how someone could be so horribly arrogant and so profoundly wrong on so many levels, yet still manage to strike so painfully close to the truth. Regina had more than once already caught sight of Emma’s lingering glances. She had even cast a few of her own, largely against her own will. Karen would not be saying this to Regina now if she had seen the secrets she’d kept hidden behind her sunglasses, her eyes shielded in a shade removed from reality. Safe to stare and foolishly imagine, to wonder “ _ what if...”  _ and never do more than dream. 

Now, however, with her sunglasses perched atop her head, Regina’s eyes were free to reveal her exact sentiments as she looked down her nose upon Karen and said, “Since you seem to be such a fan of unsolicited advice…. Try spending less time harping on other people’s relationships, and you might actually be able to enjoy one of your own. And never need again resort to renting a group of strangers to be your friends for your birthday weekend.” 

She then smiled, dropped her glasses to her face and turned on her heel. She went after Emma, leaving Karen speechless and furious behind her. 

*

Cindy accepts the clipboard, trying for all the world not to look upset. There is something she still evidently wants to say, but she is hesitating. Regina only notices when she does not immediately leave. She glaces up, eyebrow quirking. “Is there something else?” she asks on an exhausted sigh. 

“No,” Cindy says quickly and then, biting her lip, she looks down at the clipboard. “Well… actually, yes.” She clears her throat. Regina’s eyebrow arches higher. “I’m unfamiliar with Mrs. Mil-- Swan’s-- uh, you’re wife’s, health insurance. I don’t know if we can accept it,” she says with a grimace. 

“Oh,” Regina lowers her eyebrow, sniffing as she turns away once more. She places her chin on her hand, resting her elbow on the chair’s armrest, annoyed by the dramatic fuss. “Don’t worry about that. It’s local government issued, underwrit by a national provider. It won’t be a problem.” Regina knows this for a fact; she’s the one responsible for the enchantment. Now that her curse on the town is broken, linking outward deceptions like insurance, or her credit card, to the magic that runs through Storybrooke is relatively foolproof. For this knowledge, at least. Regina can breathe easy. 

“Right. She’s a sheriff... Ok, then.” She taps her nail, decisively, against the clipboard. “We’re just going to contact her primary care physician, retrieve her medical history…” There is a moment of longer hesitation. She looks at Regina, expectantly.

But Regina’s attention is already wandering elsewhere, her thoughts filling with worry about Dr. Whale and whether he will be able to demonstrate medical ethics for once in his miserable life and not immediately spread the news that Emma is hurt. 

And that she is responsible for failing to protect her. 

*

Regina heard the clatter of stone ricocheting down the canyon, and the angry grunts, and for a moment she considered just leaving Emma alone. At least for a little while longer. 

But Regina’s curiosity had been piqued high enough to override trepidation. She had been wondering about this for far too long and, hiding safe behind her sunglasses, she would finally be able to know the truth without giving anything else away. It felt like a cheat, but Regina was not in the habit of losing without cause. And she would not lose Emma, her dear friend, because of her own selfish imaginings. 

She only wanted to be supportive, after all. 

“Hey...” Regina said, coming around the boulder that hid Emma from view. “You ok?” 

Emma startled and, missing the rock she was trying to kick, twisted awkwardly around to look at Regina, her expression proving plainly that she was not, in fact, ok. 

“I’m fine.” 

“Yeah, sure, and your mother is great at keeping secrets.” Regina folded her arms, leaning against the rock, trying to appear casual. She was rather amazed that her voice was still so steady. “What happened to Emma  _ Who-Cares-What-Other-People-Think  _ Swan?” 

Emma opened her mouth, chest inflating with the words she wanted to shout, and Regina leaned forward expectantly. But Emma hesitated, and exhaled heavily before turning away again. Her hands clasped the back of her neck as she hung her head. “I didn’t mean to lose my temper. I just-- it’s not always easy for me to talk my way out of these situations. I get reckless, clumsy with my words. I just see red, and… I’m sorry. I didn’t want to upset the vacation. I didn’t mean to ruin--” 

Regina had not been expecting an apology, and was aghast to be receiving one now. Her feigned indifference fled as she pushed herself from the rock and found herself soon standing by Emma’s side. “You did nothing wrong. You didn’t ruin a thing.” She placed a hand on her shoulder. “Honestly, Emma. Karen’s just a bitch who isn’t happy unless other people are miserable. Don’t listen to her.” 

Emma sniffed, holding back fresh tears that were threatening to fall as she looked at her. The morning light glinted from behind Regina’s head, stinging Emma’s eyes, and the tears rolled. Regina took her hand from her shoulder to wipe them away, gently touching her face. Emma whispered, oddly calm despite the incredible pace of her heart, “I know… it’s just something I’ve always had to... punch back against, for as long as I can remember, and I guess… I’m just not as strong as I thought I was.” She laughed ruefully. “Must be out of practice.” 

Regina was at a loss. “...What are you saying?” 

“I’m saying…” Emma was starting to appear just as confused. “...Well, obviously, I’m saying….” She took a small step back and Regina let go of her face, her mouth opening slightly in what might have been a protest as her arm fell by her side. Emma’s eyes had grown wide. “... I’m saying I know there’s nothing wrong with… who I am… but sometimes it’s hard to shake off what life has taught you, you know?” 

Regina understood the sentiment, indeed quite personally, but there was still something she wasn’t getting. “Emma,” she said, lifting her sunglasses. She needed to see her clearly. “Are you saying that you’re… afraid of your attraction to wom-”

“I’m not afraid!” 

“No, of course you’re not.” Regina held up her hands, quick to replace her sunglasses on her nose. She took a tentative step back herself, this time. “But... how long have you known that you weren’t interested in men?” 

Emma blinked. “I’m not gay.” Regina lifted a questioning eyebrow and Emma’s look grew stormy. “C’mon, Regina. You know I’m bisexual.”

Regina’s other eyebrow shot up and the tiniest curve of a smile peeked at the corners of her lips. Suspicions were confirmed. “... Actually, no, I did not.” 


	5. Punch Back

Regina is absently massaging her right shoulder, trying to derive some small measure of comfort, to ease away her tension as her mind redoubles with rumination. 

Her thoughts reside at Storybrooke General, wondering fretfully if Emma’s medical record will even be of use. Apart from her mandatory physical, per the requirements of her job as Sheriff, Regina cannot actually recall another instance of Emma ever going to the doctor. 

Does Emma hate hospitals, too? Is Emma just as bad a patient as she? Is Emma afraid? 

Will her family ever forgive her? 

Guilt is stirring deep within Regina’s gut. 

She is selfishly obsessed with her own fears. What does it matter if everyone in Storybrooke finds out, without explanation, and believes she is responsible? What does it matter if no one ever trusts her again? If it means saving Emma’s life, she will gladly pay the price of her reputation, of her hard-earned redemption, in order to give the doctors the information they need. 

Emma is alone, and in pain, and Regina feels like dying for every minute that goes by. She needs to be there, if not to do anything more than simply hold Emma’s hand, and help her through her trauma. 

Her heart reaches out for her, longing to be by her side, supporting her as she always does, and will always do.

*

Laughing was not going to help. Regina was a touch embarrassed that it had been her instinctive reaction, but Emma sudden expression, utterly bamboozled, was just too precious. 

“Seriously?” Emma gaped at her like a fish, gulping for lost words. “... I thought you knew!” 

Regina had to lick her lips before speaking, washing off a grin that was wanting to grow. “Well. I had my assumptions, of course. When you first blew into town, I could have sworn that you--” She bit down on her lip, swallowing the rest of the sentence. “I just... wasn’t sure that…”

“... That what?”

“Well. That _ you _knew it.” 

“Wha-- Of course, I knew!” Emma was as offended as she was bewildered. “I’ve known for years! I did have this whole other life before Storybrooke happened, if you can recall.” 

Caught somewhere between cross and amused, Regina snarked, “Well, perhaps I drifted off during your oration on the way up here, but I don’t recall a single mention of past girlfriends in your life’s story.” Or any mention, ever, for that matter. 

Emma’s pout would have been comical had her eyes not been so full of distress. “How could you possibly have assumed I thought was straight?” 

Regina shrugged. “Because you’re an idiot?” 

“Well, yeah, and therefore really crappy at being subtle!” Though, apparently, better than she had initially thought. “I mean, hell, Regina... I’m pretty sure Ruby knew by day three.” 

“It’s not as though I have a wolf’s nose for this sort of thing.” 

“Ok, well, number one, that’s gross. And two, you’ve known me for years! How did--” 

“How can people know what you don’t tell them?” 

Emma sighed in frustration. “I know I don’t exactly shout about it from the rooftops or anything but, seriously? I would have expected you at least-- I mean-- because you are too... aren’t you?” She was suddenly pale, her body going rigid. “Also bi, I mean?”

But Regina knew what she was after, and she answered her carefully. “I don’t know if I would necessarily quantify myself by that particular term.” She could assume to know what it meant but no one used such descriptions in the Enchanted Forest; there had never seemed to be a need for them. “But if you’re suggesting that we’re alike? Then, yes.” She smirked, a bit softer. “Not entirely, but yes.”

“...Not entirely?” 

“Well, for one, I don’t go around trying to hide myself...” Regina could barely finish her sentence. She knew that was untrue. Her darker side was always just within reach, itching to come out and play, and the way Emma was eyeing her suggested she held the same thought. “You know what I mean,” Regina said, her hands on her hips. “There’s a world of difference between holding back actions that hurt, and holding back a… rather significant part of who you are. When you do that, you hurt no one but yourself.” 

“I wasn’t hiding…” Emma said quietly, taking a turn to hear the lie in her own words. She found she had nothing to say after that. She only stared at Regina, the fight leaving her muscles, arms going limp and shoulders sagging. 

“What changed, Emma?” Regina asked gently. Quietly. She wanted to step forward, to take her hand. She resisted the impulse. “Was it--”

“--My mother.” 

“--your mother?” Regina’s lips grew thin, and she nodded. Of course. It always had to be Snow. “Let me guess…. The curse broke, you found your family, you learned you were a royal princess and, with that, came certain obligations, expectations you weren’t ready to accept… Something like that?” 

Emma blinked, frowning. “No. Not really anything like that at all.” But she was closer to the mark than Emma would have otherwise cared to admit. 

“Oh.” Regina was now lost. “What was it, then?” 

Emma’s cheeks blushed. “I was… worried what she would think. If I told her....” 

“...The truth?” Emma nodded. Regina clicked her teeth in disapproval. “Emma. Your mother is the most staunch propagandist for love and hope that this world, or the next, has ever had the displeasure of knowing. She, more than anyone, would accept you for who you are. You saw how she was with Ruby and Dorothy, playing matchmaker, reuniting the wolf with her prairie home companion in petticoats. She’ll want nothing more than for you to be happy. Regardless of who you… find attractive.” Regina suddenly didn’t sound so sure.

Emma, however, was no longer looking at her. She was fiddling with her own, seldom worn, sunglasses. Cleaning the lenses carefully. The blush on her face had traveled all the way to the tips of ears. “Yeah, well….” she said, needing to clear her throat. “It can be a bit different when it’s your daughter, and not just your best friend.” She put on the glasses and folded her arms across her chest, looking as tense as a coiled spring about to launch. 

Regina was nonplussed. “But, you just said you weren’t obligated to--” 

“It’s just different here, Regina. These things run deep!” She didn’t mean to shout, nor attract the attention of the touring party as they were passing by, ready to return to camp. Emma sniffed, resetting her expression, as Henry broke from the crowd and came their way. “It’s no fault of my mother’s. Just another one of my own.” She sighed, trying to smile. “I’ll explain later.” 

“Hey, moms! Everyone’s heading back to load up the boats.” He handed Regina her pack and leaned in to whisper, “Karen looks like she ate live ants for breakfast. Everything ok?” 

Regina chuckled and said, a little louder, “Things are fine, Henry. But Emma’s not had a chance to view the fossils yet.” Emma’s smile slipped. “You go ahead, stick with the Howard family, and be safe. We’ll be just behind you.” 

“Ok,” he said, casting a furtive glance at his other mother before scampering off to rejoin the group. 

Regina placed down her pack and found a nice rock to sit on, folding her legs in front of her, hands clasped neatly in her lap. “It is now officially later,” she said in a mayoral tone that brooked no argument. “And I just bought us at least fifteen minutes. So, spill the soup, Swan. Just what exactly is your fault?” 

*

“I’m not what you think I am.” 

Regina jumps, Cindy’s voice pulling her violently from her reverie, and she frowns. “Why are you still here?”

“I’m not homophobic.” 

Regina blinks at her, frowning deeper. “Congratulations. You’re passing the bare minimum of human decency. Do you want a medal?” 

“Weren’t you the one just threatening to deck me for inadequate information?” Cindy says, folding her arms. Regina says nothing, just looking away. Dismissive. “Look. I’m sorry, too, ok?” Cindy says, actually trying to sound sincere. “We can now get along from here, right?” Regina does not reply. Cindy’s face furrows, evidentially bothered. “I just want you to know that. I can’t be homophobic. My cousin’s gay and I love him.” 

Regina glances at her, eyebrow lifting in silent accusation. 

“It’s just… important, to me, that you know that.” 

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret, Cindy.” Regina’s lip curled slightly, watching the nearly idolatrous way she responds to hearing her actual name used and not some insult. Evidently, Cindy is starving for praise. Regina is going to remember this, later. Right now, she’s just prefers to drop her back in proper place. “Usually… people who genuinely aren’t something, don’t find themselves needing to insist. Because it shows.” 

Cindy’s jaw is tight as she swallows her first reply. She can see Henry coming back with Regina’s jacket. “Someone will be with you in a moment,” she says eventually, turning and walking away quickly, muttering about the impossibility pleasing everyone. 

*

Emma chewed her lip for a while, shaking her head. “...And that’s just the thing,” she said in resignation. “It’s not really my fault, either. But remembering and believing that… doesn’t always come along with instinct. I sometimes gotta remind myself.” She kicked a rock and started pacing, not looking at Regina, not even from behind her sunglasses. “Like I said, it runs deep. It’s just… old scars.” She kicked another rock, harder. “I might be my mother’s daughter, and an honest-to-goodness product of true love, and all that, but true love doesn’t count for squat if you weren’t raised by it.” 

Regina was listening quietly, all signs of her creeping guilt kept perfectly hidden. She had wanted, genuinely, to know about the burdens Emma carried and, if possible, offer to help her with the load. It was the least she could do, as the one who had caused her parents to send her to this world in the first place. 

She didn’t think she would ever understand how Emma could refuse to blame her. 

“I lived in some bad homes.” One in particular, but she hardly had the time, or the strength, to mention it now. “And there are only so many times you can get kicked out, told you’re no good, before you start to believe it. You learn not to trust people, or let them get close. You expect judgement, punishment… you even start to think you deserve it.” All of this was sounding eerily familiar to Regina. “You feel like a deviant. You feel the need to hide yourself, especially when you’re a stranger in a small rural town…. And then, no matter how old you get, no matter how many layers of armor you put on, there’s always some bitch like Karen who can still find that one vulnerable spot and just…” Her hands in fists, issuing forth growl of both anger and pain, she kicked wildly and sent a rock soaring down the path. She stood there after, shaking slightly, not looking at Regina as she forced herself to calm back down. “…I can get too worked up about it sometimes. I’m sorry.”

Regina’s expression was as stony as the surrounding canyon. “Why the hell are you apologizing to me?” She would not have any of that, not from Emma, not for this. But Emma gave no reply. Flexing her jaw, Regina took a moment before she spoke again. “I know it’s a fine tightrope to walk, between managing people’s expectations and being true to yourself. I get that. I’ve had my own fair share of unhappy homes.” Emma already knew about Cora’s abuse, and the King’s, and nearly everything in between. Were Regina not already feeling so guilty, she might have argued that she wasn’t being given enough credit. “I know how hard it is to escape their influence, even after you’re free of them.” Especially if they didn’t stay banished, or dead. 

“But it’s still bigger than that, Regina. It’s not just one person, or even a few.” She thought for a minute. “Look at it this way. You know how you feel about Blue, right? Always meddling? Always telling you what you can and cannot be? That you’re unworthy, or in need of saving, or just… an all around affront to goodness and decency?” 

Regina snorted. “I seem to recall.” 

“Yeah. Blue does that, and with the support of the entire fairy court. Now imagine that, for every church you saw on the drive up here, she controlled it and fed the minds of all the people who went there to believe that people like me, people like you, were... heathens and miscreants in the eyes of our own creator. That who we... found attractive was not just a sin, but also a choice.” 

“Preposterous.” There were people in the Enchanted Forest who would have claimed love a weakness, and perhaps a few dissenting outliers would have matched the personality described, but most anyone with a brain would dismiss such notions. “Love is hardly a matter of choice,” she scoffed. Her life would have been much easier if that had been the case.

“There are still loads of people who believe otherwise. And that’s the kind of people I grew up around. I know not all churches and faiths are like this, some are really great… but there are times I think the curse made Blue the mother superior for a reason.”

Regina was nodding slightly. “And your mother just happens to hold Blue Fairy’s opinion in such high regard…. I see now why you doubted her.” 

“I’m not even religious. But I still… couldn’t escape the impact. Not really. I mean, I could sometimes find bars, communities, safe spaces--” Regina recalled the term, used recently by Sharon, Adam, and Steven. She hadn’t made much of it then. “--but the outside world always waited.”

“...The whole world?”

“Well. Maybe not the _ whole _world. But sometimes it felt that way,” Emma said grimly. “Things have gotten a lot better in recent years, at least in some countries. But there are still parts of this world that are so unsafe… you risk getting yourself killed, if people find out.” There were still some parts of this country like that, too, if you weren’t careful. But she didn’t want to worry her more. 

“How?” Regina couldn’t believe it. “How did it get this way?” 

Emma shrugged. “The wrong people got the power.” 

*

The jacket ruins her ensemble, rugged outdoor synthetic clashing with vintage summer chic, and she can practically feel the decimation it deals to her self-image, undoing all semblance of perceivable power. Then again, she supposes, vomiting on the side of the hospital probably did that first. 

She’s just grateful to get away with that one in anonymity. 

With Henry sitting once more beside her, Regina can not help but feel the redoubling need to be brave, and selfless. And true.

“Hand me my phone, Henry?” she asks and he pulls it from her purse. 

For a long time she sits, phone in hand, staring at the name she needs to call. And does not.

She can’t trust in Whale to suddenly develop a moral center. She can’t risk this. She simply has to be the one to tell her first. And even though she knows, and feels the inescapable demand to do what is right, she still hesitates. 

She still doesn’t know how to explain, or how she will survive doing it. 

She sends Snow a text, instead.

“_ Call me.” _

And she sets the phone down like it’s burning.

*

“I know, it shouldn’t matter to me what other people think, but…” 

“...But it does,” Regina said. 

“Yeah,” Emma sighed. “Sometimes, it really does.” 

They were looking down upon the camp from the trailhead, about to begin their hike back. A certain someone had already reclaimed her usual spot up front and center, raring to go, but had switched to the other boat. Interestingly. 

“Did she ever get her answer?” 

Emma knew Regina meant Karen by her acerbic tone. She shook her head. “No. I left her guessing. I’m sure she’s still got her assumptions, but… she doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of knowing the truth.” She started off on the trail. 

“Good.” Regina followed behind her. “That must have taken guts. I’m proud of you.” She could see the timid smile pulling at the corners of Emma’s lips as she turned on the first switchback. Regina felt the strong urge to see that smile grow, blossom, and thrive again. “So, what are we going to do about her?” 

The smile faded fast. “Do?” 

Regina, however, was not deterred. “Well, she’s not just going to jump ship and get with impunity.” 

“I don’t want to cause any more drama, Regina.” 

“That’s all right. I can do it for you.” Emma looked back to argue, but Regina was unrelenting. “And you didn’t cause anything. She--”

“I know, I know….” 

“--was the one who started this.” It was an important distinction. Regina would be sure that Emma remembered. “I’ll just take Sharon aside, explain what happened and have her evict Karen from the crew. Leave her marooned for some other company to pick up.” 

Emma snorted and kept on trekking. Her smile was reappearing, slowly. 

“If no one wants her,” Regina continued, “I’m sure Park Services would come and claim her. Eventually.” 

“...Maybe they coyotes would adopt her.” 

“That’s an insult to coyotes. They may be scavengers, but they have better taste than that.” 

Emma laughed. The sound was encouraging. 

After a moment more of silence, Regina piped up again. “...My murdering days don’t have to be _ entirely _ behind me.” 

That earned her a bright and free burst of laughter. Emma glanced around at her, holding out her hand to help Regina cross a narrow gap in the path. “You’re terrible,” she said and carried on, with Regina close behind her. 

*

Once again, the wait feels interminable, but Regina is still finding ways to pass the time. She fiddles with her phone. Looks at the faded pictures on the walls. Watches some of a halfway decent Sunday morning talk show, on mute.

She tries to read Harry Potter alongside Henry, but is unable to keep her focus and falls behind when he turns the page. 

“Do you want me to read to you?” He suggests. 

Regina shakes her head. “I’m not sure everyone would appreciate a story with Dementors at the moment.” 

His lips are pressing thin. “Guess not. But he is called the boy who lived. There’s still hope in the dark.” 

She looks at him, eyes glimmering with pride. “Sometimes, I can’t believe I’m the one who raised you.”

“Well, you did have some pretty awesome help. After you did all the hard stuff first.” 

“Yes,” she says, lips drawing thin like his. “She is pretty awesome. And so are you.” 

“Right back atcha, Mom.”

He goes back to his book. Regina envies his ability to escape reality so freely, to have so much hope in his heart that he can see clearly in the darkest moments. She tries to keep the fiery sparks still burning inside her own heart. 

She can’t fix this. But she can survive this. 

She exhales slowly, breathing life into hope. 

*

As they neared the camp, passing among river washed boulders, Regina watched as Emma’s shoulders began to tense and her pace began to slow. The smile was once again gone. “Emma,” she said, stopping just out of sight of the others. “Wait.” 

She turned, frowning in confusion and apparent anxiety. “What?”

“Is there… really nothing I can do? To make this better?” 

Emma was touched, but thought her a little naive. “Regina, you can’t fix the world.”

“But I can fix this vacation. Sharon said they wouldn’t tolerate--” 

“Regina, please.”

“--her kind of behavior.” 

“I don’t want any more attention drawn to us.” Emma said. “And anyway there’s not enough evidence to convict, so… let’s just move on. Please.”

Regina, however, could not be lied to by Emma. This wasn’t over for her, and Regina could see that plainly. “Fine....” she said holding up her hands in surrender. “If you’d rather run from Karen, we can do that too.” 

Emma’s brow furrowed. “Keeping a low profile isn’t running.” 

“And standing up for yourself doesn’t draw any more attention than being obviously upset.” 

“Regina--” Emma took off her sunglasses, eyes not upset but frustrated. “--I only know one way to stick it to homophobes like her, and that’s by having pride. To be loud, and obnoxious, and deliberately unafraid. But, as you have just revealed to me, I might not be the best at showcasing my sexuality. So I’d rather just... keep it to myself.” 

“But, what if…” Regina said, hesitating and biting her lip, still hiding behind her glasses. “What if you had a little… help from a friend?” 

Emma’s look of frustration became one of suspicion. “...Meaning?” 

“Meaning… I might know a thing or two about flaunting with pride. You’ve seen pieces of my old wardrobe, I do believe?” Regina smirked and took the tiniest step forward. “And I speak from experience when I say… there is nothing more infuriating than knowing your nemesis is happy when you are miserable. So...” Regina sighed and closed her eyes, brows lifting with surprise that she was actually about to suggest this. “Would faking a romantic relationship, just to spite her, make you feel any better?” 

Regina opened her eyes, nervous for what she would see. 

With her mouth falling open slowly, the corners curving into a slanted smile, and a curious glint in her eyes, Emma was the epitome of sudden intrigue. Not exactly what Regina had been expecting. “You mean… Operation Peacock?” Emma asked in quiet disbelief, nearly laughing. “No. No, that’s unnecessary.” 

“Are you sure?” Regina held her hands behind her back, rocking on her heels. “Because, I wouldn’t… mind. If it helped you, to punch back a little.” 

Emma shook her head, stepping forward. “You don’t have to do that.” 

“I’m offering.” 

“And you’re sure that’s a good idea?”

“Why not?” She shrugged. 

“...Seriously?” 

Regina dipped her chin, dark eyes peeking at her over the frames. “If you’re interested.” 

Taking another step closer, conspiratorial, Emma said, “...I think am.” 

“Well, then--” Regina had to clear her throat. She straightened her spine, standing taller. If there had been a glimpse of nervousness, it was gone now, hidden once more behind her glasses. “How do you want to proceed? Are we married? Dating? Some torrid hidden affair? What’s our official story?” 

“Oh, well I, uh…” Emma said, blinking. And stepping back. “Well, I don’t think we really need to… go that far out of our way. For it to work, I mean. I don’t expect Karen’s going to want to chat again anytime soon. And everyone else already believes we’re together. So, we can just… play off those expectations, right? Just… continue to enjoy the trip, but call ourselves a couple and, you know… carry on as usual.” 

“...As usual,” Regina repeated, unsure. Suddenly, suggesting that they do anything more seemed like both a bad and a better idea. 

“Maybe, we can just like… flirt really loudly, or something. I dunno.” 

“I’m sure we can... figure it out together. As we go along.” 

“Together, yeah,” Emma said, and she held out her hand. Regina took it with a satisfied smile. “Operation Peacock is a go, then.” 

“...Henry will be pleased,” she said and began to lead them back to camp, still holding her hand. 

“Oh, yeah. We should probably let him in on this, huh?” 

“He’d be horribly offended otherwise.” 

“And we can’t have that.”

*

Henry is doing what he can to help. Noticing the way Regina is absently massaging the anxiety from her shoulder, he decides to lend a hand. 

Without needing to say a word, or even break away from his book, he begins to rub a gentle circle in between the blades of her shoulders. Comforting. A simple reminder that she is not going through this alone and that he, quite literally, has her back.

She closes her eyes and exhales once more, only it’s shaky; the kind of sound that normally precedes tears. She manages to keep it together. 

“... Should we call this one Operation Peacock, part II?” he asks quietly, trying to get her to crack a smile. It doesn’t work but she does give his knee a squeeze, appreciative. 

She does relax a bit, eventually, settling at last into the wait. 

Don’t panic. Keep going, as if everything is already fine.

Eyes opening, she realizes that she has quite the collection of interested observers. They all avoid her gaze, especially when she stares back directly, but she can tell she is being watched. The dramatic scene from earlier, hardly a half hour old, must be difficult to forget.

She remembers the need to lay low, to be inconspicuous, and figures that tactic is now clearly shot to hell. 

Exhaling again, she tries on the mantra printed on the shirt of the man sitting across from her, definitely looking at his phone and not, obviously, still watching her. 

_ Just keep calm, and carry on. _

*

  
“So, let me get this right...” Henry said, frowning. “You’re gonna… do everything exactly the same as before?” 

“Well, not exactly the same,” said Emma. 

“And just call yourselves a couple?” 

“Yes,” said Regina. “People already assume as much. It’s just simpler this way.” 

Henry looked back and forth between his mothers. “And... you don’t see what's obvious here?” 

They both stared at him, brows knitted in confusion. 

Henry rolled his eyes. “Right. Well, that tells me all I need to know.” 

“Huh?” 

“Nothing. Forget about it.” 

“Henry….” Regina warned. 

“Look, I’m on board. Go Team Peacock. But I’m starting to believe this venture might be a lost cause.” He rose from his spot on the raft. “I’m getting a soda. Want one?” He left before they could answer. 

“Well, he’s wrong,” Regina said to Emma, scrunching her nose. “I’m thinking of an easy way for us to be absolutely insufferable.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Emma said, eyes growing wide again with intrigue.

“You’ll see.” 

They disembarked an hour later at the shores of Saddle Canyon and prepared for a hike to a hidden waterfall nestled deep within the walls. Karen, naturally, took her spot at the head of the group, leading quickly towards the path. Emma, Regina, and Henry pushed to keep up, eventually falling in line just a few people behind her. 

“Did you remember to bring the emergency kit, _ dear _?” Regina asked loudly. 

Emma glanced at her, not entirely sure if that was a genuine question or not. Regina was always concerned with safety, and had insisted that no one leave for a hike without the Magipen. Donning her sunglasses, Regina gave Emma a small wink. Emma smirked in understanding. “Oh. Of course I did, _ babe.” _

Regina had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Ahead of them, Karen marched on straight ahead, seemingly unperturbed. Refusing to acknowledge them.

“It’s a beautiful day today. Don’t you think so, _ sweetie _?” Regina said, a little bit louder. 

“Not as beautiful as you, _ pumpkin, _” Emma said, not missing a beat and just as loud. 

Behind them, Henry just shook his head, utterly embarrassed.

Walking upstream through the rivulet, their insipid pet names grew worse and worse as they navigated the narrow canyon path. And the flirtation grew. Naturally. Always within Karen’s earshot, of course.

Patches of green occasionally cascaded down the walls, signs of water fed life. As Emma helped herself to a drink from the spring, Regina picked one of the tiny scarlet flowers from the moss and vines. She tucked it behind Emma’s ear. “Gilding the lily, I suppose, but it matches your cheeks.” Indeed, Emma’s were just as red. 

Of course, that could very well have just been from the sun. 

*

Regina is feeling a bit warmer, a bit better, a bit more comfortable in her chair. She’s doing well, breathing deeply. She casually glances at the clock and her gut wrenches. The damn thing must be broken, or running slow. There’s no way it’s been less than twenty minutes. 

Anxiety seizes in her shoulder again. She massages it away, flexing the fingers in her other hand to encourage proper blood flow. Her pulse is high. She can feel it in her neck. 

_ Keep calm. Relax. Keep calm and carry on. _

But, why is no one calling her name? The hospital is busy, yes, but Emma is undoubtedly their most compelling case. More so than a car crash victim. More so than a geriatric with heart failure. Emma is, must be, a medical anomaly. 

Regina’s no doctor, but she knows they will need her expertise. Surely, by now, they must know she is here. Surely, by now, they must have questions they can’t answer.

Questions that, Regina’s anxiety unhelpfully reminds her, she can’t answer either. Not yet. 

She looks to the clock again. Counting. 

The magic must be done by now. Surely.

Regina knows, from her beta testing, that Emma is not going to appreciate how she feels after the effects wear off, all issues of injury aside. 

Most recollections from her own experience are hazy, save for the vivid memory of sharp stabbing pains in her head and violent, sweating bouts of nausea after waking up on the pavement outside of Storybrooke, her nose bleeding, with the chaotic results of her magical binge lining the edge of the road; trees, hundreds of new, fully matured trees, of all different shapes, sizes, species, and seasons. She does not remember the need to make so many, nor the inspiration to be so decidedly arboreal. 

It is the final tree of that collection which specifically haunts her memory; a deformity, with deep roots and a wide trunk that slenders rapidly into a mere sapling with sprouts for boughs. She remembers the twisting and withering, watching as the incomplete and unsustainable creation quivers as if sharing in her own pain, leaves falling like snow and turning to dust, vanishing completely before dawn the next day. 

All the other trees still remain even as nature reclaims control, granting influence to the summer sun and heat. Some trees fair better than others, but all are becoming a part of the landscape as if there from the start. 

The Magipen, which Regina still believes to be a considerably genius invention, yet remains in obvious need of refinement. While effective, it is only appropriate for the absolute worst case scenarios, and requires extreme conservatism and caution to use. 

To ‘Hulk out’ on magic, as Henry calls it, is actually quite dangerous, pushing beyond physical limits and risking loss of control. It creates a delusional sensation, raising one’s abilities to incredible heights, inducing a euphoric sense of the invincible, and then slamming the feeling back to down to earth, powerless and horribly aware of life’s fragile mortality. 

Regina counts herself lucky that a severe hangover, a feeling of toxic shock, is all that became of her short-sighted decision to test the concoction alone. Passing out mid-creation, leaving a monster in place of a marvel, is scary evidence of an overexertion that nearly cost her the ultimate price of magic; her life. 

Her experience is only that of a whole and reasonably healthy body, though. Poor Emma is hardly in any suitable shape for such a demanding challenge, even without overexerting. Her recovery will be intense, at best.

Hopefully by now, she is receiving all the best pain medication the world without magic has to offer. Just how Regina can explain any of the rest to her doctor is yet beyond her knowing. She rubs her eyes in frustration, thinking as hard as she can, and forcing herself to approach just one obstacle at a time.

*

Climbing higher through the canyon, they had to wade through waist high water and lift themselves over boulder dams and ledges. Emma’s biceps flexed, droplets running down her skin, as she pulled Regina up. Her hand lingered on her back as she guided her to the dry side of the path. “Careful there, _ honey bear _,” Emma said, eyes dancing with mischief. Karen was finally starting to take notice, casting disdainful glances, visibly annoyed.

“Why thank you, my _ strong sweet savior _,” Regina said, batting her lashes. And then, when Karen wasn’t looking, she chuckled, “...Honey bear?” 

Emma shrugged. “Why not? Besides, I’m running out of names.” She held out her elbow for Regina to take. Which she did. They walked along the last stretch of the path, to the waterfall, arms brushing, hands touching. Regina rested her head on Emma’s shoulder. 

They had only ever been like this once before, sitting together on a couch, the first time Emma had come to check upon Regina after the underworld, after weeks of avoidance and absence. And after many drinks. This time, Emma did not flinch when Regina gave her a quick kiss on the shoulder.

The sun was at its zenith. Emma’s skin was smooth and smelled of heat, and river water, and coconut sunblock. Regina did not let her lips linger. “You should reapply before we head back. You’re getting crisp.” 

“Sure thing,” Emma said, her voice lower than usual. 

The waterfall was smaller than they should have expected, but the source came across the desert from miles away. A feat of endurance, longevity, survival. It was beautiful. 

Most everyone took a turn wading into the pool to stand underneath the brisk shower, posing for pictures. Emma’s was hilarious, her floppy hat soaked through and collapsed around her face, with her two thumbs up. Regina refused pictures, but got under anyway, emerging gasping from the cold water, her hair falling loose from her braid.

Emma’s eyes dilated at the sight. She almost dropped the bottle of sunblock she was holding when Regina smiled at her and laughed. 

They had no idea where Karen was at that time. Until she spoke up again. “Time to head back, now, isn’t it?” She asked loudly to a guide. “If we’re going to make it to the LCR? It’s my favorite place.” 

“Oh. Can we wait just a minute?” Emma asked, pouring out an absurd amount of sunblock into her hand. “I don’t want to burn.” 

“Yeah, everybody, take some time to hydrate and cover up, and then we’ll head out,” said Gary, and walked away from Karen.

“Henry, come here,” Emma said quietly. “Put some on your face. I can’t put it back in the bottle.”

“I could use some, too,” Regina said, coming up behind them, toweling her hair with her t-shirt, a suggestion in her smirk. 

Emma swallowed. 

Rubbing his face with the sunblock, Henry left quickly. “Gary, what’s the LCR?” 

Regina turned her back to Emma, catching Karen’s scowling glance. “I always have such trouble reaching that spot right in the middle. Do you mind, _ sweet pea _?” She adjusted her bathing suit straps, exposing the full length of her back and shoulders. 

“Uh. No.” Emma licked her lips. “Not a problem at all, _ DARLING _.” Her voice cracked. 

Regina looked back at her, eyebrows rising over the tops of her sunglasses. “Is this ok?” 

“Yeah, it’s fine!” Emma said, much too quickly, collecting some of the lotion from her hand onto her finger tips. “...Just turn around.” 

She coated Regina’s back and her shoulders, wasting no time. She finished fast and in silence. 

“Now you,” Regina said, taking the remaining sunblock from her hand. All business, suddenly. “Turn.” 

Emma did as she was told, seeing Karen in the corner of her eye. She screwed up her face. “Hang on,” she said, and she undid the backstrap of her top, holding the bathing suit against her chest to keep it from falling. “Ok.” 

A brief moment passed before Regina touched her, hesitantly, but soon with confidence. 

Emma’s head drooped. Strong fingers were finding muscles that Emma had no idea were so sore, and she groaned. 

Mercifully, Regina gave no indication whatsoever that she had been heard. She merely carried on until Emma’s skin was protected. “Don’t forget your face,” she said, fastening the backstrap for her. She gave Emma a little pat on the shoulder and left to collect her things. 

Emma exhaled on a shaky breath. 

* 

The waiting game continues, as Regina works desperately to breathe and remain calm and not look at the clock. When, loudly, suddenly, her phone rings, piercing through the muffled silence in the waiting room. 

She jumps, almost batting the device to the floor as the fumbles to pick it up. She stares at the screen and does not recognize the number. She frowns, not sure if she should answer. Perhaps it’s park services? Or the lodge? Or is it Snow calling from a payphone for no good reason other than to toy with her already paranoid mind. 

Unfit for handling any more surprises that moment, she silences the phone. If it’s important, whoever it is will leave a message. The few seconds of waiting thereafter feel like an eternity. Anxiety crawls like ants up her legs. She can’t sit. She has to move. Rising, pacing, avoiding all eye contact with her waiting room compatriots. 

The phone buzzes in her hand. She has a voicemail. Stilling, she puts it to her ear, covering the other with her hand. 

It’s John Howard, just checking in, and offering help from his brother.

“Robert is a bulldog in court. If you need any legal council or a, uh, an attorney… uh… you know, just give us a call. He’ll be happy to take on your ca--” 

Regina stops the message. She can’t hear this right now. It’s too much. She folds her arms, phone tucking underneath, and she continues pacing. Staring passively at the awkward photos of staff and even more awkward award presentations, displaying on the walls like the world’s worst art gallery, she is painfully aware of every awkward stare and the awkward fact that she, herself, must be the most obviously awkward person in the room. 

Which is incredibly strange to Regina. She’s really not that familiar with the feeling. 

*

The hike back to the boats was quiet. Neither Emma nor Regina made any effort to annoy Karen, or to even be near her. They lingered in the back, allowing Henry the space to hang with Jamal and Michael as he pleased, but they hardly spoke to each other and they no longer touched. 

No one was mad, or upset. In fact, they both continued to smile, but the tension that hovered around them as they descended the narrow canyon was practically suffocating. 

Eventually, falling back from his friends, Henry had to ask them if they had given up on Operation Peacock. They answered simultaneously.

“...Yeah…” 

“I guess.” 

They glanced at each other, forgetting the futility of trying to find clues beyond dark lenses, before focusing once more on Henry.

“I mean to say... it’s probably for the best,” Regina said. “Right?” 

“Yeah, we made our point,” Emma said. “She knows where we stand now.” 

Whether or not they knew was another story. 

“What a waste of a perfectly good operation name,” Henry complained, shaking his head. “You didn’t even do anything!” 

“Of course we did,” Emma said, frowning and a little offended. 

“Oh… Was that supposed to be flirting? Because, yikes.” Henry grimaced. “I was more smooth when I asked Violet to the school dance.” 

“And since when are you such a Casanova?” Regina said, folding her arms at the same time as Emma, looking incredibly cross.

“Seriously, kid. It’s just... a game to get back at her. You’re the one making it awkward.” 

Henry scoffs, “Oh, sure, blame the innocent child when his moms are totally useless.”

“Watch that mouth, mister,” Regina said, snapping her fingers. “We might be on vacation, but I can still ground you. Even on a river.”

“Fine, fine. Sorry. It’s just…” He shrugs. “I don’t think she’s going to get the right message.” 

They paused to help each other carefully down the last ledge in the path, setting off on wider, more even terrain. “Just what sort of message are we supposed to be sending?” Emma asked, unable to let it go. 

“Something like…” He stuck out his chin, nose in the air. “We’re here, we’re queer, and you can die mad about it. Bitch.” 

“HENRY!” They scolded. 

“What? Am I wrong?” They looked to each other, at a loss. “Honestly... you're hopeless,” he said and walked away to rejoin his friends.

“I do not care for this new teenager attitude,” Regina grumbled.

“... I think he might be right,” Emma said after a moment.

“What?” 

“If we quit now, Karen’s just going to be smug. ” Emma was sounding vindictive. “I think we just need to change our tactics. Gay it up a little bit more. You know?” 

“No, I don’t think I do know.” Regina said, bemused. “Is there a style I’m unaware of? A certain courtly custom?” 

Emma bothered to remove her sunglasses just to stare sardonically at her. “You know you can just say you don’t know anything about gay culture and not be a dick about it, right?” 

“I mean it, Emma.” And she did look serious. “Apart from clothing choice and obvious flirtation... I’m not sure how else one is supposed to go about broadcasting their specific attraction.” 

“Huh…” Emma had never really noticed the disparity before. “Must be nice, being able to take that for granted.” The fairy tale world was by no means perfect, but at least it hadn’t needed to develop a whole counterculture for persecuted lovers. “Well, we can just talk about the stuff she won’t understand or appreciate. I’m sure you know some of it. You watch television.” 

“I prefer movies.” 

“Yeah, but you know about Will and Grace, right? Ellen? Xena: Warrior Princess?” 

“....What?”

“Ok, maybe not.” Emma made a mental note to fix that later, grinning slightly at how Reigna would most certainly balk at all the inaccuracies of that last, seriously goofy, show. Personally, it was one of Emma’s favorite shows ever. “There’s still other stuff, like… rainbows, and parades, and drag shows, and purposefully bad haircuts… Broadway musicals, legalizing marriage… Birkenstocks versus Doc Martens… and…” 

Regina was looking at her like she was crazy. 

“I know, I know… We won’t be believable if we go on pushing clichés.” 

“I suppose,” Regina said, markedly confused. She could not fathom how she had managed to miss such a significant aspect of this world. It was almost as if the content had been hidden, censored from the mainstream eye, throughout history. They walked in silence for a moment, then, quietly, she asked, “Is marriage really illegal here?” 

“What?”

“For... gay people,” Regina said, looking uncomfortable. “Does this country not condone the union of same sex couples?”

“Uh…” For all the things Regina could latch onto now, this was not the one Emma had expected. She had been hoping the leather clad, sword-wielding warrioress would have been of far more interest. “Some states allow it. I think this one does, now. But as a nation? No. There’s no federal law that says marriage can be anything other than between a man and a woman.”

Regina took a while to absorb this information. 

Emma was wondering what she was thinking. They were about to board their boat again, and Karen was rejoining their crew.

Then... 

“All right, my dear,” Regina said, her voice low, weighted. She looped her arm around Emma’s bare waist. “Let’s try this again.” 

*

Regina, ceasing to pace, is now looking at a large group shot of all the hospital employees; some sort of holiday picnic. She is trying to find Cindy in the bunch, creating the lamest version of ‘Where’s Waldo’ ever, when low and behold, naturally of course, Cindy returns to the waiting room with another issue. 

Think of the devil... 

“Yes, what is it now?” 

“I think there might be a misprint on your health insurance card. Or maybe the registration is expired. But there isn’t any record of the policy in the online database.”

“...What?” 

“Your insurance isn’t working.”

Regina is shaking her head, trying to dislodge whatever is in her ears that is keeping her from hearing the truth. Because this can’t be happening. This continual worse and worse… she has to be imagining it all. No day can be half so unlucky all at once. 

“You said it was government issued?” Cindy says, tilting her head. “... I can call her employer.” 

“That would be me,” Regina says, snapping slightly. “I’m the mayor.” 

Cindy’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh. Law and Order, huh? That’s spicy.” Regina frowns at that comment, but she doesn’t disagree. “Do you share an insurance plan? Maybe your card is accurate?” 

“No. We don’t.” Mayors have extended benefits. Of course. Not that it matters in this case. Regina, surprisingly, has to remind herself of that fact; they aren’t actually married. 

“Ah, well. Rotten luck” says Cindy, making a note on her clipboard. “No matter, though. I can just call the Sheriff’s station. Whatever deputy she--”

“No!” Regina says, taking a sudden step forward. “Not the station, I mean.” Not David. Not her father. Regina has to take a moment to compose herself again. Cindy is looking wary. “Just… Call my office. I have everything on file there.” 

“Okey dokey,” Cindy chirps and turns to leave. 

Regina sighs, shaking her head. And then she realizes, a half second too late, her eyes bulging in terror, _ “Oh, shit, no. Not Snow!” _

  
*

Regina was feeling bold, bold enough to face her fears and follow Emma closer up to the front of the raft, and really experience riding the rapids. If that return of bravery had anything to do with how she was able to hold her, sitting behind Emma with legs on either side, arms wrapped securely around her waist as they were tossed and splashed, then Regina was the only one to know. She had taken her seat without explanation, and Emma had let her. 

“See? Not so bad,” Emma said, looking over her shoulder, water rolling off her sunglasses and onto her beaming smile. 

“No. Not so bad at all,” Regina said, and she squeezed her arms tighter. A hug. Before she let Emma go. 

Karen wasn’t watching. For several miles her eyes remained fixed forward, hand over her brow, searching and seeking, trying to be the first to see--

“It’s BLUE!” someone on boat A shouted from downriver. 

“It’s blue!” Karen echoed immediately. Her eyes had lit up. 

“Amazing,” said Clint. “Rain must have stayed to the west…” 

“What’s blue?” Emma asked, trying to restrain Henry who was now bouncing with excitement. 

“The Little Colorado River!” Henry said, pointing. . 

Just beyond the next bend, intersecting from the east, a narrow shimmering ribbon of bright blue water was merging with the murky dark green river. The spectacle was unlike anything Emma or Regina had ever seen. 

“It’s not often we get the turquoise waters,” Sharon said. “What luck!” 

The decision is unanimous. Both boats are beached and they all clamber up the shore to take advantage of being the only ones at the location. 

“SCIENCE!” Clint called, and some scurried to him to learn how silt and mineral springs gave the water its hue. 

“ACTIVITY!” Abby called, and many more ran off to her. She always had fun ideas. This one involved wearing life vests upside down, legs through the armholes, while sitting in a line, buoyant in the warmer, almost Caribbean-like water, and riding down the riffles like a slide. 

As fun as it appeared, Regina refused to don her life vest like an adult diaper and so, unsurprisingly, joined in with the science. Henry went off for a ride but Emma stayed with Regina, for no reason other than to witness her continued fascination with the canyon. It was nice to see her so enthused, so full of life. Happy. 

After the mini lecture, however, as they were walking along the river to the swimming hole, Regina admitted she was disappointed to have learned that it was actually calcium oxidate, limestone, and travertine that made the water blue. She had foolishly hoped it was something else, even though Denise had said it wouldn’t be found in the canyon. 

“I keep hearing this word,” Regina muttered to Emma later, sitting on a rock with their feet dangling in the viscous river, watching Henry as he played with the rest in the swimming hole. “This stone called turquoise? I don’t think I’ve ever encountered it before.” 

Given all else that Regina didn’t know about this world, Emma was still surprised by her admission. “Do you seriously not have any back in Fairy Tale Land?”

“Not many limestone deserts in the Enchanted Forest. I imagine, if we do have it, we must call it by another name. I can’t recall a merchant trader ever bringing me such an offering, though. I’d be fascinated to see some for myself.” 

“Hmm. Duly noted,” Emma said, observing Karen as she tried to navigate around the others, disrupting her laps across the pool. “...I think I’m ready for a swim.” Emma pulled off her shirt and slid into the water, still wearing her shorts. It was a little cold, but not shocking. Refreshing, actually. She put her head under and came up again, slicking her hair back. Floating was easy in the mineral water and the current was gentle. She didn’t want to give Karen any credit, but Emma could see why this place was her favorite. “Join me?” Emma asked Regina, smiling, tilting her head. “We can go splash around Karen and ruin her fun.” 

Regina, meanwhile, was having the same thought. This place was incredible. Truly gorgeous. And so was the present company. 

“As long as I don’t have to wear a river diaper,” Regina said with a chuckle and then, stripping down to her bathing suit, got in with her. She left her sunglasses behind. “Race you there.” 

*

“Cindy, wait,” Regina calls after her, hurriedly walking, trying so hard not to appear as anxious as she suddenly feels. She has nothing to hide, she has to remember that. She has to look like that at all times. 

Cindy turns, her look far too kind for Regina to trust to be sincere. “Yes?”

Regina slows significantly. She can all but hear the gears of her mind grind to a halt. “Uh… don’t bother with City Hall.” 

“Why?” 

Regina has no idea. “Uh…” 

“Because it’s Sunday!” Henry says, appearing suddenly at her side. “The office is closed.” 

“Right,” Regina says, and exhales quietly, squeezing his shoulder in relief. “I forgot. What day it was, I mean.” 

“Still on river time, huh?” Cindy chuckles. “Happens.” 

Both Henry and Regina squint at her. 

“How did you--” Henry begins, but she cuts him off. 

“Do you not have an assistant, Mayor Mills? Someone you left in charge that can--”

Regina shakes her head. “Forget about it. My assistant is an idiot. Just... call Storybrooke General again. They’ll have a record--” 

Cindy sucks her teeth. “See, that’s the other thing…” She shakes her head, lips pressing tight, concealing either a smile or a frown, it’s impossible to say, but either one feels like mocking. “I’ve called the hospital twice already, and left messages. But, so far…” She shrugs. “No one is returning my call.”

Regina’s brows are knit so tightly in confusion and disbelief, they appear to be the only part of her face that’s keeping her slack jaw from hitting the floor. Henry looks much the same.

“Are you sure this information is entirely accurate?” Cindy blinks innocently. “Or, perhaps, there is something else you’d like to tell me? Anything that would possibly help me find the people I need? Because, I’d love to hear it.”


	6. I Might Surprise You

“Marco!”

“POLO!” the other swimmers shouted at Emma as she stumbled around blind, eyes shut tight with water running down her face. She heard Regina snicker and she lunged, missing her by an inch with a splash. 

“Damn, come back here,” Emma reached again, eyes sneaking open, and her fingers grazed over Regina’s arm. “Gotcha!” she said, catching her by the wrist. 

“Penalty for peeking,” Regina said with a devilish grin. Grabbing Emma’s wrist, she spun her around, fast as a dance, locking her arms across her chest and pressing Emma against her front, before dunking themselves both underwater. 

Regina released her immediately, coming up for air first. Emma, spluttering, came up soon after, laughing and splashing at Regina. 

“Regina, it’s your turn to be it!” one of the fraternity guys called, but she didn’t respond. She was already playing a different game. With Emma, against Karen. And it seemed that they were winning.

“Who’s up for playing chicken, instead?” Tabitha asked the group. Doug, rather enthusiastically, let her climb on top of his shoulders and they squared off against Brian, with Sharon sitting on his shoulders. 

“I call riding Brian next!” said Adam, teasing. 

“Aww… Whatever happened to romance?” Brian countered. “Buy me dinner first, at least.” 

Everyone was laughing, cheering on the friendly competition. “Oh, get a room,” Karen said, disgustedly, dragging herself away from the fray, out of the water to sit on a rock.

“But all we have are tents,” Regina sneered after her, smirking. “Maybe we can set ours up next to yours tonight? You have such a vested interest in our relationship. Wouldn’t want you to miss a single moment.” Her arm was draping around Emma, holding her close. Just like she had done the night before, but with far less in between. “Is this ok?” Regina whispered, watching Karen in the corner of her eye.

“It’s fine,” Emma replied. Reaching up behind, she placed her fingers on Regina’s neck. “Is this?” 

“Yes.” Regina turned her head and nipped at her thumb. 

Emma yelped and giggled. “It’s good, don’t worry. Is she still looking?”

Regina snorted. “She looks constipated.” And she really did; Karen’s glaring at them both. 

Turning in Regina’s arms, Emma stared right back at Karen, defiant... until she felt a finger crook underneath her chin, lifting her gaze up to Regina’s. So terribly close. Suddenly.

“Here,” Regina breathed, and she licked her lips. Emma inhaled sharply, her eyes blowing wide, and turned her head at the last second. The kiss fell to her cheek. 

“No.” 

Regina froze in a flash, mumbling an apology. Emma was already stepping back, breaking away. Her face was devoid of color. Smiling, or trying to, desperately avoiding looking over at Karen, Emma laughed. Feeble and forced, it was a sound far more like crying. Her breath hitched. Taking another step back, she dove underwater and swam downstream. Fast. 

Concern overruling the ruse, overtaking any sense, Regina went after her. 

*

This doesn’t make any sense. There is not a single good reason for it not to work, no reason for the Hospital not to answer. Unless… Regina feels her stomach flip in panic, but she forces away the terrifying thought.

“Is there any other place, or any other Doctor, I should be calling?” Cindy asks. “In Boston perhaps?” 

“I have no idea,” Regina says, blinking rapidly, her mind reeling. 

“Well, forgive me for saying so, but as her spouse, you really should know.” 

Regina does not acknowledge her opinionated judgement. She is lighting up, struck by an idea. “Actually, you can try here. In Arizona. Emma lived in Phoenix, for a spell. And I know for a fact that she saw a doctor here at least once.”

“Oh?” 

Regina tilts her head. “I mean, it’s old information, but it’s better than nothing, right?” She’s latching to any figment of hope, growing all the more desperate to help Emma. 

Cindy is less enthused. “How old?” She asks, her brow folding. 

“About 14 years,” Henry says. Oddly smug. 

She gives him an appraising look. “Very well. I’ll see what I can find.” 

“Yes, thank you,” Regina says, her hand holding over her middle in steadying comfort, slowing her breath. “Just… keep trying.” 

*

Regina almost swam past her, searching in such haste. Emma had huddled herself in an alcove of rock, the current swirling around her, the rush of water just loud enough to mask her quiet, castigating frustration. 

“...stupid. So fucking stupid…” 

“Emma?” 

She looked up from behind her hands. Her eyes were red. “Regina, I’m so sorry. I didn’t--” 

“Emma, it’s all right!” She immediately took her hands. They were shaking. “You did nothing wrong. As usual. I should have known not to push you so fast. You weren’t ready for that.” 

Emma scoffed, unable to look at her. “Don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for that….” she mumbled. 

Regina paused. “Did I embarrass you?” Her brow furrowed. “... Are you ashamed?” 

“I…” Emma swallowed and shook her head, wanting to pull her hands free of the gentle but insistent hold. It was too much. 

“Emma, what is it? You can tell me.” 

But Emma only continued to shake her head.

“...It’s all right. I understand.” Her voice was level. Monotone. “I’m sorry… I thought a fake kiss wouldn’t be any problem.” Everything else had been going so well. 

Emma was very quiet, her hands still captive. “...There’s no such thing as a fake kiss, Regina.”

“...So. It’s me, then,” Regina said, matching her volume. Her eyes were sad. “I’m the problem.” 

Emma tried to look at her, mouth open and wanting to speak. She could do neither. 

Regina let go of her hands. “You’re… conflicted? Repulsed?” 

“No!” Emma said, lamenting to the water as her hands sank below the surface. “Hell, no. I’m just… afraid.” 

“...Of me?” She sounded hurt, but not unsurprised. Former Evil Queen, and all that… 

“No. I mean. Well, yeah. But not like….” Emma gave a heavy exhale, closing her eyes. “I was afraid I’d mess it all up.” 

“Mess what up?” Regina was in desperate need of an answer. She didn’t know what to do anymore. “The game? The kiss? You were doing just--” 

“No, Regina! Us!” Emma said, at last turning her eyes to face her. Her shoulders squared back. “I’m afraid I’ll…. Look, I just don’t want to mess this up. Us. Whatever this is between us.”

Regina blinked. And again. Her cheeks flushed. As did her chest. “I’m flattered, Miss Swan, that you’d be so considerate.” She licked her lips. “But you needn’t worry.... One little staged kiss isn’t going to make me fall in love with you.” 

Emma’s look was stricken. “Oh.” 

A moment passed where neither spoke, nor moved, nor breathed. Their eyes were locked, reading hidden thoughts and catching lies. 

Regina frowned in doubt. “...Are you sure I don’t repulse you?” 

Horribly confused, and suddenly angry, Emma snapped, “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“I’m starting to wonder--”

“Regina, I’ve wanted to kiss you from the moment I first saw you!” Emma inhaled, bracing herself. “...I still do.” 

“...Oh.”

A pulse of panic was throbbing in Emma’s throat. She swallowed. “I mean, I thought that was pretty obvious.” She swallowed again, slowly consuming her fear, too late to turn back. “I thought… well, in the beginning, I thought that you knew... and that you were just trying to manipulate me, that it was all just a ploy to get what you wanted, and so I never gave in… tempted as I was. There was just too much at stake, always, and with Henry in the middle of everything, I wasn’t about to risk it… and then…” She flinched, the painful memory resurfacing. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with me. That you didn’t trust me. Would never trust me. Or even like me.” She took a tentative step forward. “But... that was then, and this is now. We’ve finally become friends. Really good friends. And it’s rare. For me.” She licked her lips. “Because, you know. I’ve not had many friends.” 

“Neither have I,” Regina said, drawing closer, pushed by the current.

“Right, and if I kissed you… then… then I don’t think I would have a friend anymore. Because, you aren’t… into me, like I’m into you.” She swallowed once more. “And that would ruin things. Right?”

They were growing breathless, scant inches apart. 

Regina touched her face. “I might surprise you.” 

Emma’s smile was timid. Hope burned in her eyes. 

Regina smiled gently. And sad. She caressed her cheek with her thumb. “But, it’s never going to work, Emma…” She sighed. “You’re the savior, and I’m… well... _ me _.” She tried to take away her hand, but Emma reached up and kept it there. Regina’s voice cracked. “You deserve so much better.”

“...How about you let me be the judge of that?” 

They were leaning forward, eyes closing. 

“Hey moms, I-- woah.” They broke apart, jumping and slipping on the rocks, Regina actually falling under the water, as Henry appeared suddenly at the shore. He stared at them, his hands on his hips while they struggled to find composure. “Honestly? You’re doing Operation Peacock all wrong, Karen can’t even see you!” 

“It-it’s, uh…” Emma stuttered, helping Regina back up. “It’s…. Uhh… just practice.” 

“Uh-huh, sure,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Just wanted to say it’s last call for body surfing, if you wanted a chance.” And he ran off, jumping back in the water far away. 

Emma and Regina, looked at each other, holding hands again somehow, amazed that the water wasn’t conducting the surge of electricity flowing between them. A train of people floated quickly past them down the river. Reality was returning.

They laughed, extremely awkward, but neither was letting go of the other’s hand.

Regina’s eyes were glowing. “...You wanna go for a ride?” 

“With you?” Emma’s smile beamed. “You bet your ass.”

*

“Some days, I swear, when it rains it pours,” Cindy says, making a note on her clipboard. “I betcha Mars has to be in retrograde or something, what with Murphy’s Law proving its point all over the place. Maybe Storybrooke General is having just as bad and busy a day as us…?” She shrugs. 

Cindy is very clearly giving Regina the benefit of the doubt, though every sign leads to indicate that Storybrooke doesn’t actually exist, and that Regina is a bald-faced liar. It’s a mercy that does not go unnoticed, but only serves to raise suspicion. 

“Or, maybe there’s a storm,” Cindy proffers again, “and the power is down?” 

“Maybe…” Or, perhaps, it’s something worse. Remembering the dread, the sense of foreboding from the start of their trip, Regina’s mind summons the worst case scenario against her wishes. 

The town is gone. Another curse. 

It’s the only thing that can possibly compare in magnitude with the rest of the day’s tragedies. 

First Emma, and now this. It’s a real “go figure” and “fuck you” kind of day, indeed, and it’s not yet even noon. 

And such bad luck always arrives in sets of three…. 

_ "Oh. Have mercy, please. No more surprises." _

At least, counting the faintest of silver linings, this is going to buy her time to get more answers, a chance to find some better way of explaining. Perhaps bad luck could be lucky, too? 

Only time, and a return call from Storybrooke, can tell. 

“Welp, I’m going to keep trying to contact the hospital. You work on contacting whatever person can provide accurate proof of insurance. I sure would hate to foot you the whole bill….” 

“Yes. That would be the icing on the shit cake,” Regina grumbles as she walks away, rubbing her eyes in frustration.

“Mom, is Storybrooke in danger?” Henry asks, shoulders tensing. He, too, obviously fears the worst. Ever so quick to jump to conclusions, just like his mother. Both of them. 

Regina shakes her head. “I guess we’ll figure that out soon enough…” She has no idea what kind of mayhem or madness might be going on and, selfish though the thought may be, she can’t help but wonder...

...Can it stand to go on for just a little bit longer? 

*

No one wanted to leave the little blue river to construct a camp, but necessity bore them away, regardless. Day quickly turned to dusk and their play turned to work. 

The stars were beyond brilliant that night. A million and more dusted across the sky, shining on canyon walls that rose high into shadowed cliffs to shape the view; another river, hanging in the heavens, jeweled with turquoise. 

Tents were entirely unnecessary. 

Emma and Regina and Henry had their spot by a twisted tree, their wet clothes drying on a branch, their cots arranged for convenience. The terrain was uneven. 

They had joked about torturing Karen further and obstinately setting up a tent anyway, where they could be alone, in private. Sleeping, of course. Just sleeping. Probably. Possibly. Maybe. Who knew? 

But they’d be missing the view for spite, and Karen wasn’t worth the loss. She couldn’t even see them, from her spot at the other end of camp, anyway. 

Henry, however, could. 

In his cot, a short distance away, he kept a noticeable watch over them, looking very much like he did on the nights before Christmas. 

Emma and Regina had decided to keep their cots close, for appearances, but they kept to themselves. Mostly. 

They were laying on their sides now, stars forgotten, the calm and warm air humming with cicadas and the low roar of rapids. Looking at each other, Regina let her arm hang over the edge of her cot, fingers reaching across the sand. Emma extended her arm, inching closer. 

A faraway howl, like a siren, high pitched and echoing, traveled through the canyon. Another soon joined in, and then another, yipping and yowling. The coyotes sang them to sleep as they held hands across the divide between them, neither knowing who had first touched the other. 

*****

“Regina Mills?” 

Her head turns to the call, her heart skipping a beat. The nurse is here, finally. 

Relief washes over her. Regina could just kiss her, she’s so happy. 

“Come along, Henry. Let’s get some answers.” 

They collect their few belongings and trek across the hall. Regina shakes her hand. Nurse Carroll is a woman of zero nonsense, square jawed and thin lipped, with permanent frown lines etched into her face. The admitting nurse, in charge of all incomings, in the absolute business of knowledge and knowing, is exactly the type who Regina wants to see. 

She almost refuses Henry admittance, but Regina insists. He wants to be there. “He’s been more adult today than I have. He’s earned the right to know about his mother just as much.” And Regina trusts him, explicitly, not to blab. As she has come to know, he’s quite the master of keeping secrets, a trait he most certainly did not pick up from his grandmother. 

“Very well,” the nurse says. “Follow me, please.” 

They follow behind her, moving briskly, beyond the doors that read “Patient’s Only” and down the hall, to a consulate room. The fluorescent lights bathe the air in ozone, as nervously electric as the rest of them. The door shuts behind them.

“Please,” she says, indicating the hard plastic chairs in front of a polished aluminum desk. Bare, save for a computer and a stack of files three days deep. “Make yourself comfortable.” 

By her tone, already, this doesn’t seem good. But nothing else about this day ever has. 

*****

As green and smooth as bottle glass, the river shone brightly on the third day. The sky was clear, the temperature hot but not oppressive, and the animals were out in abundance. Mule deer and bighorn sheep grazed the newly sprouted vegetation, clambering easily through the rocks and along ledges. A great California condor was spotted soaring above, a rare sight. The coyotes of the night before were scarce to be seen but Clint said they were most likely still around, following the camping parties, hoping to find scraps of unguarded food. Unless any larger predators, like mountain lions or bears, entered the territory first. 

But Clint assured them all that such sightings were a rarity, moreso even than the condor. There was nothing to fear. “Except the squirrels. Don’t mess with the squirrels.” He held up one of his massive hands, showing a scar on the back of his wrist. “They’re bastards.” 

Everyone was relaxing now, lounging along the raft as it skimmed silently, led by the current past remnants of ancient stone architecture and granaries carved deep into the walls. 

Emma was sitting behind Regina, helping her apply sunblock to that oh so difficult to reach spot in the middle of her back, and had found her right shoulder was entirely knotted. Apparently, sleeping all night with your arm awkwardly draped over someone too far away could leave behind some serious tension. Regina claimed no regrets. 

“Perhaps I just wanted an excuse for you to touch my back again,” she said coyly. 

“Oh, well. All you had to do was ask,” Emma replied, digging deeper into the muscle, grinning. 

Regina bit her lip, but made no sound, even as she melted under Emma’s ministrations.

Henry, lying on his stomach on the top bench, turned a page in his book and said, almost bored, “You two are complete and utter cheeseballs.” 

“And maybe if our son wasn’t constantly watching us like he was riding money on a boxing match,” Emma said, looking askance at him, “We might be able to flirt more freely...” 

Regina glanced at Emma, smirking slightly. 

Henry’s ears tinged red. “Roger that,” he said closed his book, rising. “Carry on. I’m gonna go hang with Jamal and Michael while you go be gross.” The boys were trolling for trout behind the boat. No one was catching anything, but that was aside from the point. 

“He’s up to something,” Emma said, hands resting on Regina’s shoulders. 

“Oh, really? And what was your first clue?” 

They laughed and Emma kissed the top of her head, stealing a chance to smell the sun in her hair. Hair that was badly in need of brushing. “You should let me redo your braid,” Emma said, taking her fingernails to Regina’s scalp, making her hum in satisfaction. 

“I’ll let you do anything, if you keep that up.” 

“...Yeah?” She said, scratching longer, more thoroughly, undoing her hair in the process. “You like this, huh?” 

“I’m liking a lot of things…” 

“Me too.” 

Regina had to look at her, pausing her work with a touch to her hand. “Genuinely, Emma. This trip… means everything to me. Thank you.” 

Emma’s smile bloomed. “So… are you saying that I was right, ag--”

“OH, for the love of-- YES. Emma. You were RIGHT,” Regina said in exasperation, pushing her to fall over on her backside as she laughed. “For the millionth time, you were right.” She leaned over her, and tickled Emma’s sides through the gaps in her life vest. 

Regina’s wild hair fell about her face, hiding her smile from all the others that were observing their antics. Her joy was for Emma’s eyes only; eyes that were as deeply green as the river when they opened again. “Happy now, Princess?” 

“Ecstatic,” she said. And she was. 

“Such a shameless display…” Karen condescended from her usual spot at the front. “No consideration for others, whatsoever.” 

Emma rolled her eyes, having temporarily forgotten she was even there. “You know, Regina, I think I can hear the wind talking.” 

Checking first that she was still all right with the circumstances, Regina replied, helping her sit back up, “And what is it saying, dear?” 

“Dunno. I don’t speak wind.” 

Regina chuckled and leaned back against the bench, facing Karen. Emma sat by her side, her arm going around her shoulders to hold her close. Regina folded her arms and nestled herself comfortably in the crook of Emma’s shoulder. She kissed her cheek and Emma giggled. 

“At least you have the common decency not to do this in front of you son,” Karen said. “Children are so easily influenced.”

“Hey, now--” One of the twins, Kate, interjected.

“Shhh…” her sister, Pamela, whispered. “This is their fight. They’ve got this.”

And Emma did. Truly. 

“I simply have no idea what you are talking about,” She said, tilting her head, cool as a cucumber. Turning in her seat, her chest brushing against Regina’s, practically crawling into her lap, Emma looked to the back of the boat and called over her shoulder. “Henry, I know you’re listening. Any idea what she means?”

“Not a clue, Ma,” he called back, sitting atop the water cooler. 

“Anything confusing you?” 

“Nope. Nothing but Karen’s attitude.” He smirked, a little too embarrassed to look at his mothers directly. “You’d think she’d be happier on her birthday.” 

“You’d think so…” Emma said, with a shrug, sliding back down Regina before retaking her spot. “Ready for me to do your hair?” She asked, smirking. 

Regina was slightly stunned by Emma’s bold display, and more than moderately turned on. She beamed at her with pride, scrunching her nose. “Scratch my head a bit more first.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

And the Queen rested her head in the Savior’s lap. 

*

“How is she?” 

Nurse Carroll sighs, scratching the back of her head, appearing more than a little perplexed as she reviews Emma’s file. “She’s… undetermined.” 

That at least makes more sense than claiming Emma is stable, but all it does is raise more questions. Regina folds her hands in her lap, holding on tight. “Is she conscious?” 

“Intermittently,” she replies, uncapping a pen and switching on her computer. “Which is why I need your help. She can’t speak for herself, not at the moment, and we need to know more before we can proceed.” 

“Absolutely.” Regina does not hesitate. “Anything you need.” Just not something, she hopes desperately, that requires a crash course in Magic 101. 

“Does the patient have a history of illness? Any hereditary conditions?”

Regina lets out a small snort of cathartic disdain, rolling her eyes in the warm way she reserves only for Emma. “You mean, apart from idiocy?” 

Nurse Carol, however, does not find her comment funny. She stares at her, pen poised over the paper expectantly, lips pursing in apparent disapproval. 

“Sorry. No,” Regina says, a bit sheepish, smoothing away the wrinkles in her dress. “Not that I’m aware of.” 

She makes a note on the paper. “Does she have any metal plates or implants?” 

“No.” Regina hesitates. “I mean, I don’t think so. She’s never mentioned--” 

“Neurological issues? Or blood diseases?” Regina’s brow furrows. “Any chance she might be pregnant?” 

Regina blinks and her frown deepens. “I would hope not.” Her hand finds its way to Henry, seeking his without the aid of her eyes. His hand is holding hers in the next instant, gently squeezing. “No. There’s not a chance.” 

The nurse does lift her eyebrows as she writes. “One might naturally assume, of course… But it doesn’t serve the patient to guess.” 

“Of course.” Regina, meanwhile, cannot escape the sudden rush of fantasy, of tiny feet and even tinier toes, miniscule fingers tangling in long blonde locks and tugging on a swan pendant necklace; Regina can almost feel the warm weight in her arms, less than ten pounds, hardly anything at all. Emerald green eyes below a curl of dark brown hair, and the sweet clean smell of powder. Emma’s laugh and a happy babbling. Her chest is suddenly hollow, aching with a longing for the dream to materialize, all quite unexpected.

She holds Henry’s hand tighter. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” 

“Heart conditions? Such as with blood pressure? Arrhythmia?”  
  
“No. Her heart is good.” The corner of her lips quirk, a near smile. 

“Is she currently taking any medications?” 

“No.” 

“Any… recreational use of drugs or alcohol?” she asks, eyeing her with too much scrutiny for Regina’s liking. 

“She… does drink. A beer or two occasionally. Sometimes cider. She had some last night. Never drinks wine. Whiskey shots if she’s feeling--” 

“That’s fine,” she says, making a note. “But what about drugs? Anything… illicit? Or, maybe perhaps, experimental?” 

Regina swallows. She glances at Henry, who does the same to her. She swallows again, looking back at Nurse Carroll, whose lips are thin, pressing tight, clearly withholding a comment. “That… feels like a loaded question,” Regina says carefully. 

“I’m sure. Perhaps, now you can see why I didn’t want you to bring your son along?” 

Regina bites her tongue, forcing down her quickly rising temper. Henry, however, has less control. 

“Mom doesn’t do drugs,” he says, quite adamant. “Not the kind you’re thinking of, at least.” 

Eyes widening beneath her deeply furrowed brow, Regina casts a questioning glance at Henry, who shrugs and says, “She does take a daily Flintstone vitamin.”

“Henry….” Regina said, putting his hand back in his lap with an admonishing tap, returning her own to lace tightly together, pressing against her stomach. “Behave.” 

“I thought it was an honest answer.” 

“If we can please focus?” Nurse Carroll intones, her patience running low. “It’s a very busy day.” 

“Yes, of course. Sorry. No, no drugs.” None, technically. 

*

Karen was getting a stern lecture from Sharon. It was not pretty. Everyone was, more or less, scattered to the front, trying to appear as though they weren’t all listening. 

Had there been magic in this world, Regina would have imagined Karen capable of ripping a heart out and just as willing. 

An approaching rapid forced an end to the fast-unraveling argument. Regina took a seat. 

“That’s my spot,” Karen said. 

“I don’t see your name on it.” 

Emma was standing a few feet away, mouth hanging slack. Henry looked much the same. 

“Hmm.” Karen’s lip twitched as she smiled. “Hope you enjoy the ride.” She left to claim one of the remaining spots in the middle of the raft. 

“Henry, Emma, would you like to ride up front with me?” 

Of course, they did. With Henry sandwiched safely between them. And, of course, they enjoyed the hell out of it. 

“What a ride!” he said, shaking the wet hair from his face. “Next time we do this, let’s get smaller boats and really go for it!” 

“Next time?” Regina said, arching an eyebrow at him over her shoulder. “Aren’t we a mite hopeful.” 

“Our kid’s an adrenaline junkie,” Emma laughed. “Maybe a theme park instead?”

“I’ve never been on a rollercoaster,” Henry said. 

“Neither have I,” said Regina. 

“Well, that settles that. Next vacation, I’m taking us to Six Flags.” 

“... And not Disney World?” Regina teased. 

“You know about Disney but not Xena? Figures.” She could have laughed out loud as she imagined Regina’s reaction to her cartoon counterpart. 

“Heads up, everyone!” Clint called out. 

The approaching rapids, even at a distance, looked wild, breaking in whitecaps, stretching far down the river around boulders the size of cars and houses. 

“Take a chance, it’s time for Hance!” Sharon sang out, adjusting her grip on the rope handle. “Just hold on tight, and wet your pants!” Several people started to scoot back to the middle, and a few even went to the rear. The roaring grew louder, competing with the excited shouts and chants of “HANCE. HANCE. HANCE.” 

“C’mon, Henry,” Emma said, tugging on his shirt. “This one’s the biggest on the trip.” And they scrambled back, sitting next to the Howards. 

Regina, however, did not go anywhere. Her feet were squarely on the rope, like stirrups, her legs gripping firmly around the pontoon. She looked back at them, wrapping one hand around the rope handle. “You wanted to know if I had a talent?” She smirked. “Well, in lieu of a horse...”

“Regina, are you sure?” Emma asked, looking faintly alarmed. Not Even Karen was vying for a return to the front seats. 

Tossing the hateful woman a glance that could only be interpreted as a thrown gauntlet, Regina lifted her chin and readied for the rapid. “Observe.” 

And she leaned forward, embracing the dive before rising up high with the splash, all the while keeping her left hand free, held loosely above her head. Her form was exquisite. 

And her riding skills were impressive, too. 

Emma… Oh, poor, simple Emma. Throughout the entire ride across the rapids, holding on desperately, all she could think about were thighs. Supple, powerful, could easily break your neck and you’d die happy about it, thighs. 

She licked her lips, her mouth the only thing about her that was still dry, as Regina tossed back her braided hair, trailing an arc of water in its wake. Once again on smooth waters, the whole team sans Karen cheering for Regina’s daring, she got up casually and made her way back, entirely self satisfied and smirking with authority. 

“...Tell me again how you were afraid of something bad happening?” Emma asked, nuding her with her shoulder when she sat down beside her. 

“You wanted me to relax,” Regina said with a shrug, squeezing the water from her hair. “Turns out there’s no easier way than just giving me someone to destroy.” 

Emma laughed, shaking her head. Absolutely smitten.

*

Regina is afraid something bad is about to happen. Not that it hasn’t already. 

The nurse is shaking her head slightly, seeming not at all convinced as she circles something else on the page and. Her voice is heavy when she says, “Due to conflicting reports of injury, and the frankly baffling array of symptoms, if you can’t provide us with any greater insight, the hospital is going to reserve the right to make medical decisions on her behalf. Or, contact her next of kin.”

“But--” Regina’s heart is suddenly racing. “But I’m her wife!” 

“Does she not have any parents?” 

“Emma was an orphan.” 

“... Was?” 

“Well.” Regina flexed her jaw. “She eventually found her parents, a few years ago. They’re on good terms, but they… don’t know her like I do.” 

“Would she have shared her medical history with them?” 

Regina paused, breathing quickly through her nose. What were the odds of Emma ever discussing pre-existing conditions or metal implants with Snow and Charming? “I honestly don’t know.” At this point, she no longer cares if they find out before she can tell them. If calling them will help Emma, Regina will suffer their ire a million times over to do so. All that matters is getting to her. She can’t stand having her out of reach. “I have tried, but I have yet to get in touch with them. They’re… unavailable. I think.” 

The nurse continues questioning regardless. “Does the patient have any advance directives? Anyone appointed with medical power of attorney?” 

“What? Why?” Regina asks, unable to mask the note of fear behind her wall of increasing anger. 

“There are some procedures we may want to conduct that require a waiver of informed consent.” 

“... Such as?” 

The nurse places down her pen. She’s a veteran of difficult affairs and knows no meltdown that she can’t handle. She prepares, folding her hands on top of her desk, and licks her lips. “Because of HIPAA compliance laws protecting patient confidentiality, I’m afraid there’s not much more I can tell you without a definitive burden of proof.” 

“Proof of what?” Regina already knows. She just wants to hear staunch Nurse Carroll say it first. The news looks like it’s going to hurt her to admit, but it’s nothing in comparison to the anger and anxiety roiling inside Regina. 

“Your claim of marriage.” 

*

They were approaching the end of their time on the river, nearing the shoreline entrance to the sheltered path that would eventually lead them all to Phantom Ranch, when Henry pointed up at the canyon wall, to the long and winding Bright Angel trail. High above, just visible beyond the rock, were a team of mules carrying passengers single file down the gorge. Regina noticed that there were a few mules missing riders. 

“Emma, look,” Regina said, pointing.

Shielding her eyes from the afternoon sun, trying to see if anyone was walking instead, Emma asked nervously, “Did someone fall off?” 

“Don’t be silly,” Regina scoffed. The idea of someone falling from such a height, and everybody else carrying on as usual, was simply absurd. But she could understand why someone would want to turn back. The scale was much more intimidating that she would have otherwise imagined, and those mules were plodding right along the edge. “I suppose they must have panicked, and had to hike back out on foot. Which means... their reservation is probably--” 

But Emma was suddenly suspicious of the look in her eyes. “We’re HIKING the trail tomorrow morning. I’m not going to be riding up on some flea bitten--” 

“Forget the mules, Emma,” she said and lowered her voice. “I’m talking about lodging.” 

Slowly, Emma remembered the advertised package deal. “If their mules are free… then, maybe their beds at the ranch are free, too?” 

“Bingo.” 

“A real bed…” Emma sighed at the thought. They both were muscle sore and exhausted, facing a long trek upwards in hardly half a day’s time. The temptation was strong, and Emma couldn’t refuse. “I don’t care if they’re narrow, rickety, bunk beds. I’ll take it.” 

Regina lifted an eyebrow and smirked. Though she hasn’t made a fuss on the trip, she was also longing for a return to civilization. Shitting outdoors was not her favorite thing. “After we reach camp, I’ll sneak off to find the main desk at the lodge. We’ll see what kind of deal can be arranged.” 

As luck would have it, of course, Karen couldn’t help but notice Regina’s absence. “We aren’t expected at the ranch for another hour. It’s rude to arrive so early, you know.” But she followed after her, anyway, unable to restrain her nosy curiosity. Emma, naturally, trailed after her in close pursuit, telling Henry to stay put until they returned. 

The ranch was only a few minutes down a winding dusty path, lined with desert brush and rocks; a hidden compound wood and stone cabins with green roofs, sheltered underneath low hanging trees. A squirrel darted across her way and Emma jumped, pausing to make sure it was gone before resuming her chase. “Those things are huge…” she mumbled, shaking her head, and watched as Karen disappeared behind the largest building in the center of the ranch. 

Regina, on the inside of the main lodge, was handing over her credit card to the man behind the front desk when Karen came bursting through the door. 

"Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded. 

“Getting an upgrade,” Regina said simply, looking back to the clerk. “Do you need a zip code?” 

“No, Ma’am. Should be fine,” he said, lining up her card on the old manual ‘knuckle buster’ imprinter. “There will be a fifty dollar fee for key replacement if you lose it, though.” 

“Of course,” she said, and he made a copy of her card. 

“Sign here, please,” he said, handing her a yellow receipt. 

Karen could have very well exploded. She surged to the desk, slapping her hand on the counter. “But I was on the waitlist! I’ve been playing the Phantom Ranch lottery for years!” 

Frowning, clearly unmoved by her outburst, the man drummed his fingers on the desk and asked Karen, “And do you already have accommodations on the property this evening?” 

“Yes. At the shore-camp.” 

“Then, no, you weren’t actually on the waiting list. You were removed once you acquired lodging through the river outfitters.” 

“But I wanted a cabin!” 

“Everyone does, Ma’am,” he said, taking back the signed receipt. “This lady got here first and paid extra to upgrade. The purchase is done. But, I can assure you, your time spent here with us will be just as much fun in--” 

“I would have paid extra!” She shouted, shrill. “You should have let me know. I don’t care if cell phones don’t reach down here, you knew I was coming. You have reservations for a reason. This is just outrageous. I demand to speak--”

“--To the manager? Yeah, that would be me,” he said and handed a key to Regina.

“Early bird, Karen,” Regina taunted, twirling the key on her finger. “Maybe next time.” 

“Enjoy your stay, Mrs. Mills.” He said. Regina blinked at him, unsure if she had heard him correctly, as he resignedly turned his attention to his newest problem. “So now, what can I do for you, Ma’am? It would be my pleasure to help.” 

Karen glared at Regina as she slipped by, snickering, passing the giftshop on her way out. 

“...Hey!” Emma said, from inside, and Regina jumped. Putting away the postcard she had been pretending to read, Emma moved quickly to her side. “All good?” 

Regina, smirking, held up the room key. “Perfect.” And together they left to go find the cabin. 

*

“This is unacceptable,” Regina says, her tone a deadly quiet. “Who’s in charge? I want to speak with them instead.”

“Dr. Williams is attending. I promise, you’ll get a chance to speak with him once he’s free, but he’s nearly as busy as I am today. It’s going to take a good minute.”  
  
“Oh, I can wait,” Regina says. She’s getting quite good at it. “I’ll wait all day if it means getting bypassing this bullshit rule. This ‘Hippo’ policy.” 

“It’s HIPAA, an acronym for the Health Insurance Privacy and Portability Act. It’s a federal law and we have been told to abide by its terms.” 

“He must be a big man, to need such large policies to hide behind.” 

“Well, it’s not his call really, either. It’s administrative. Ultimately, it’s an issue of legality. And while it’s not perfect, I know, the law is designed to protect and benefit the patient’s best interests.”

“Yeah. And it doesn’t hurt the interests of those narrowly sidestepping litigation, either.” Regina is incensed, wishing to sick John Howard’s bulldog-of-an-attorney brother on the entire hospital administration, and finds nothing but rage for knowing she is never going to have a defensible claim. 

They are not married. She keeps having to remind herself. 

“Do you require proof from everyone? Or am I somehow special?” 

“Yes. We do, actually. But, in ordinary circumstances, it’s usually easier. Shared last names, matching home address, and--” 

“--being a man and a woman?” 

The nurse levels her stare. “It’s not that we don’t believe you, but it is a matter of protocol in extreme cases, such as this, when the patient’s condition is so… undetermined. I’m sorry, but between the inadequate identification and being unable to contact her doctor or a credible insurance provider, things are a bit trickier. We need to maintain a controlled environment, for her own safety, before visitors can--” 

“We’re not visitors, we’re her family!” Regina’s throat is hot, swallowing is hard. “You can check Emma’s phone. I’m listed in it as her emergency contact.”

The nurse shook her head. “I don’t think anyone found a phone on her when she was admitted. At least, it wasn’t a part of her collected possessions when I turned them in. And... again I’m sorry, but an emergency contact is not the same as having medical power of attorney.”

“I can get an attorney!” 

“That’s… not how that works.” The threat of legal counteraction, however, does seem to shake her somewhat. 

Henry is fishing out his wallet. “Look,” he says, holding up his student ID. “Henry Mills. This is my mom, Regina Mills. Says so on her driver’s license. Now, you can test my blood and know that Emma’s my mom too, right?” 

The nurse ponders this. “That… might be a unique loophole.” 

“Henry, you are not becoming a pawn in this,” Regina insists. And there is no way she’s letting anyone have a drop of her son’s blood. As a witch, the instinct is severe. 

“I’ll look into the loophole, to see if that can count as proof of a marriage. But… I don’t know. And, before you ask,” she says to Henry, “No, you aren’t old enough to act on her behalf. You need to be at least 18.” She turns back to Regina. “Now. If you can find someone who will fax us a copy of your marriage certificate? Or, locate it within your state’s registry? You’re a mayor, I believe? It shouldn’t be too hard to find, even on a Sunday. Right?” 

“No... It won’t be too hard to find.” If Storybrooke’s gone, it’s going to be impossible to find. Or, rather, impossible to forge. Again, she has to remind herself, they aren’t actually married. 

It hurts her, more and more, each time she remembers.

“Ok. Well. While you’re doing that, we’re going to keep treating your loved one. I promise, we’re giving her the absolute best care within our capacity. I know this isn’t ideal, and I’m sorry Mrs. Mills, but we can’t risk making any assumptions only to later find out we were wrong.”

*

They stood on the threshold to the quaint little cabin, the wooden green-painted door open wide. The room was old, and the concrete floor permanently dirty despite obvious cleaning. Gingham curtains framed the windows. Rustic, handmade, and sparsely decorated furniture filled the space. A tiny two chair dinette was shoved into a corner, next to the even tinier bathroom, and two narrow side tables flanked the bed. The only bed. A queen sized bed. 

Because, of course. Why not?

“How does this keep happening…?” Emma asked quietly, a bit in awe, a bit in disbelief. 

Regina, chewing her lip, exhaled and said, “The people who had given up on the mule ride had, interestingly enough, been a married couple. I suppose I should have known what to expect when the manager called me Mrs. Mills….” She was able to hear Emma swallowing. She glanced at her. “Is this... suitable?” 

She nodded slowly. “Looks comfy enough. I don’t mind sharing.” She risked a glance at Regina. “Beats sleeping in a narrow bunk bed. Or on a cot. Or on the ground.”

“Try not to sound too enthusiastic,” Regina said, masking a note of disappointment. 

“Really, Regina. It’s great,” Emma said, hand brushing over hers and quickly retreating. She was blushing, her eyes fixed on the bed. “I’m… looking forward to it.” She giggled anxiously, unable to help herself. “Haven’t had a decent night’s rest in days, you know?” 

Regina’s lips were pursed, forcing down a smile. “We should head back to camp. Collect our things… Make sure Henry is all right with this. With not also getting a cabin, I mean.” 

“Yeah,” Emma said, trying not to giggle again. She shoved her hands in her pockets, turning away for Regina to lock the door. “Hope dinner’s soon.... I’m suddenly starving.” 

*

“It’s going to be at least a few hours before more tests are completed. We’ll call you when there’s more we can share.” Nurse Carroll says. “Meanwhile, you can avail yourself to the guest computers, if you need to. Or visit the chapel, if that will help. We have other people you can talk to, not just our medical receptionist. Though, Cindy really does shine in guest relations.” 

Regina and Henry snort in disgust. Clearly unhappy, they have identical body language that speaks volumes; arms folded, chins tucked, legs crossed with one foot bouncing in irritated impatience, and staring in a way that might otherwise appear as evidence for premeditated murder. 

Receiving a call on her pager, the nurse shifts the subject with ease, suddenly becoming the perfect hostess and concierge. “Now might be a good time to look into where you’ll be staying the night. There’s a decent motel, just across the street.” She rises, going to the door anyway. She holds it open for them, and they reluctantly collect their few belongings. Neither will look at her. Neither wants to speak. They both radiate anger. “May I suggest a walk? Go get some sunshine? Or some lunch? We have an excellent cafeteria. Sunday’s the blue plate special. Always a surprise.” 

“Sounds real appealing,” Regina snarks as they exit. She has an appetite for nothing more than vengeance. 

She’s going to make mincemeat of Cindy’s reputation, and serve it with a cold side of shame. 

*

With their bellies full of hearty steak and corn and potatoes, fuel for the next day’s trek up the canyon, the group had been set free to lounge and roam about the ranch. Naturally, Emma had wanted a return to the gift shop. She needed a postcard to commemorate their trip. Henry and Regina had looked at the limited supply of branded coffee mugs and hats, eventually buying nothing, as Emma quickly made her purchase. They had then visited the stables, where Regina actually got Emma to feed and pet one of the mules. 

“See? Not so bad,” Regina had teased her, and Emma had to admit that she was right. “Oh, am I really? How refreshing.” 

“Still never gonna ride one, though,” she insisted, smirking. “So, don’t get any wild ideas.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, rolling her eyes, and led them off to enjoy dessert around the campfire, completely unaware of the brochure Emma had nabbed at check-out, advertising horseback tours around the rim.

A chocolate cake, dotted with holes and candle wax, sat on a picnic table with plates of cookies and s’mores ingredients. It had barely been touched. Karen, sitting on a bench, ate her slice alone from the rest. Everyone else had claimed to be too full, though several had started roasting marshmallows. 

Emma, who preferred her marshmallows raw, something that Henry had deemed sacrilege, was settled in her folding chair, knees pulled up, sugary treat in one hand and a pen in the other, composing the message for her postcard. Or trying to. The words were proving elusive.

Scribbles turned to scratches and lines soon became images. Emma doodled her thoughts on the postcard, like she had so often done in school when she ought to have been taking notes. Drawing distant birds that looked like water waves, and a river that could pass for woodgrain, boats that looked like rocks and rocks that looked like empty boats, Emma knew that she would never send this card. She’d need another, but the gift shop was closed. Perhaps early in the morning she could get another. Perhaps by then she would know what she wanted to say. 

Regina, having scored a few apples from the stables and some tin foil from the cantina, was showing Henry how to bake them in the fire. Her face glowed in the light, surrounded by the falling darkness, but her smile shone brightest. Emma tried to draw it, then her eyes, and that adorable nose. The bow of her lips, and the faint scar it bore…. 

The resemblance wasn’t half bad, by Emma’s standards, though she felt it best to burn the card before Regina ever saw it. She was by no means an artist. Still, she enjoyed the activity. She tried drawing Henry next. She made his ears too big by accident. She tried Regina again, in profile this time. Better. 

“How did you get your lip scar, Regina?” Emma asked her absently, tracing the faint line once more, trying to get it right but only managing to make it too heavy.

The unexpected question caught her by surprise. “Why the sudden interest?” 

“No real reason. Just curious.” She tried shading the curve of her lower lip to match. Not half bad. Kinda sexy, actually. 

Regina took a moment to answer, carefully unfolding the tinfoil from the steaming hot apple. “Climbing accident. I was seven. I fell out of a tree.” 

Emma looked up at her, intrigued. “Really?” 

“An apple tree, if you can believe it,” she said.

Her mother had been away, seeking favors and future suitors, polishing the ladder rungs her daughter would ascend to claim the throne that she had, for so long, so selfishly craved for herself. Her absence provided the only time Regina could ever steal for such free and unladylike play. The tree branch had broken and she had hit her head on a root. Upon her return later that week, Cora had been furious and had whipped one of Regina’s servant girls, tied to the offending tree, forcing her to watch, as punishment for ruining her face. 

Cora, with all her magic, was not a gifted healer. Her heart was too dark, and seldom kept inside her chest. The resulting scar was faint enough to pass, she had determined, but had warned Regina that it would be her fault and her fault alone if she never became Queen. She had commanded that the scar serve as a reminder, never to disobey her again. 

Despite the painful memories, Regina actually took great pride in her scar. Her mother had always been her rebellion, and the scar was lasting proof that her instincts were to fight back. Regina refused to ever forget that, and was happy to see Emma remembering how. 

But that was a story to share at another time. When less people were around. 

*

Cindy is no longer at her desk when they return. A young man, a twin, actually, to the one who operates as daytime security, now sits in her chair. He does not look at her, focusing on the computer screen. 

Cindy is not collecting anyone from the waiting room, either. She is gone. 

“Coward,” Regina growls, about to claim a seat for herself when, of all things, she hears a whistle. She turns to the sound. 

It’s Tom, the heliomedic from Lifeteam. He jerks his head, indicating for her to follow him, and he goes outside. 

“Henry, stay here,” Regina says quietly. 

She finds Tom standing in a corner, in a patch of shade, away from the sight of the security camera pointing at the door. He has a cell phone in his hand.

For a brief, bright moment, hope leads Regina to believe it’s Emma’s missing phone. It is not. 

“I thought you had left?” 

“Evidently not.” He looks around before speaking. “I’ve got someone who wants to talk to you. Technically, I’m not supposed to be getting involved like this… but since I don’t work here...” He shrugs. “I have no problem spending my lunch break doing a quiet favor for someone who does.” He presses a button and hands her the phone. 

It’s ringing. She presses it to her ear. 

_ "Hello, this is Jeremy.” _

She looks at Tom. He encourages her. “Tell him who you are.” 

“Hi… Jeremy? This is Regina Mills.” 

_ “...Oh, thank God.” _

Regina has no idea what’s going on. 

_ “I work with Grand Canyon Search and Rescue. I was the one who was with your… wife? Emma, was it?” _

Thank God, indeed.

Regina exhales, glancing thankfully at Tom. “What can you tell me, Jeremy?” 

There is a pause on the other end. His voice is nervous when he speaks again. _ “...I was hoping you could tell me?” _

“I beg your pardon?”

_ “I’m sorry, but… I mean… Have you not been in to see your wife, yet?” _

“No.” She waits. And so does he. “... Jeremy?” 

_ “Look, ok, I know this is gonna sound crazy, but you were there. You saw what I saw. She was in a bad way when we pulled her out of the canyon.” _

“I can recall.” She’ll never be able to forget. 

_ “Well… NPS doesn’t believe me, they don’t want me calling you either until they have a better picture of understanding. But I swear, I’m not making this up.” _

“Spit it out, Jeremy.” 

_ “Your wife… there’s no other way to say this, she had a miracle.” _

Regina sighs. “Is that so?” It’s not the answer she is hoping to hear, and hardly a suitably medical assessment. But, then again, explaining away magic in this world without probably doesn’t require many other excuses. 

_ “Yeah! She had, like… this impenetrable skin, like Superman. You know? None of my IV needles worked. And her injuries… I know you saw them… they were gone when we offloaded at the helipad. Simply gone!” _

Regina freezes. That can’t be right. “...Gone?” 

_ “Well. Mostly? That cut on her head was still there, but I swear, it was nowhere near as bad as before.” _

Regina cannot breathe. Her heart is breaking into a million pieces.

_ “I couldn’t get a chance to look at the rest before I got another call.” _ For Edith Muller. _ “Ma’am, I’m really sorry. I don’t mean to sound like I’m pulling your leg, but something healed your wife. Something miraculous. Honest to God, truth.” _

Regina knows it’s not a miracle. If anything, it’s a curse. Quite possibly, the kiss of death. 

*

Walking around the fire pit to Emma, who quickly tucked the postcard inside her jacket, Regina held out the treat, offering her a spoon. “Care for some? I promise, it’s not at all cursed.” 

Emma was happy to take a generous bite, and licked the spoon clean. “Delicious.” 

Regina shrugged. “...Could use some cinnamon.” 

All around them there was talk, quiet talk, of observations made and theories assembled. No one knew for certain what they were to each other, whether they were newly dating or rekindling their marriage, or perhaps remembering they were soulmates from another life, or whatever… But their evolution was unmistakable. Emma and Regina had connected on a much deeper level from where they had started on this trip, hardly three days ago. Spawning idle gossip and wishes born of envy, all centered around the love story that was writing itself in front of their very eyes, it was all anyone wanted to talk about. 

The lack of attention left Karen incredibly bitter, and nobody cared. 

“The way they look at each other reminds me of your father,” Guadeloupe told Angie.

“They have such a special relationship,” said Rick, whittling a toothpick with a pen knife. “One might even say unique.” 

“Oh. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” said Karen, helping herself to another slice of cake. “Their sort are becoming more common every day.” 

*

Regina cannot find her voice. Her eyes are burning with the threat of oncoming tears, the phone slowly sliding out of her slackening hands. 

Tom looks at her closely. “Mrs. Mills?” 

_ “Regina, are you still there?” _ Jeremy asks. 

She swallows. “I’m-- I’m here….” She swallows once more, her grip tightening on the phone. “Is there… anything else you can tell me? Anything else at all.” 

_“I… uh…. Well. She kept on saying your name. Mumbling it, kinda… And, uh, that she was sorry? That she didn’t listen, or something like that? I don’t know. She was pretty incoherent. I didn’t know what she was talking about. Something about knowing she was right? I really don’t know. I thought she was telling me you two had a fight, maybe? I’m sorry I can’t tell you more I was too distracted with the whole skin of steel thing.” _

Regina’s breath is hitching. She’s trying not to cry. Or scream. “I can’t believe you didn’t call me. You had my number, in the emergency list on her phone. Did you… drop it?” 

_“No, Ma’am, I sent it with her in the ambulance.” _

Why was everything this day ruled by incompetence, inconvenience, and impossible coincidence? Luck this bad is reserved for Friday the 13ths, not Sunday the 28ths. Or, it ought to be.

_ “I… probably should have called you, but I had no idea what to say and, you know… I already had a new charge. I just didn’t have the time.” _ He clears his throat. He sounds embarrassed. _ “I just... I need you to believe me. I didn’t hallucinate this. But Park Services is convinced I was drinking on the job, or something.” _

“...I’m sorry, Jeremy…. But, I don’t think I can help you.” She’s feeding him to the wolves, as she hands the phone back to Tom. She needs to isolate the incident. The less talk of miracles or magic or whatever, the better.

_ “...Regina! Wait!” _

“Ma’am?” Tom asks. 

Her stare is a million miles long. “If you’ll excuse me.” She turns slowly, her gait unsteady, as she retreats back to the hospital to cry in the bathroom. 

If Emma lives through this, Regina’s going to kill her.

*

The fire was getting low. Emma rose to try and fix it, grabbing the poker from the sand. 

Regina offered to help, after several minutes of unsuccessful prodding. 

“I’ve almost got it.” She said, blowing on the coals. “I know what I’m doing.” She did not. 

“I’m sure you do.” Regina bit her lip, trying not to smile at the risk of appearing condescending, but Emma was just too cute when she pouted at inanimate objects. “All I’m saying is I might have some greater skill at this, you know, having lived for some time in the land without electric heaters. I’ve lit my fair share.” 

“Magic fireballs don’t count.” 

“Not what I mean, but I’d argue otherwise.” 

“You would,” Emma snorted. The fire was nearly out. She sighed. “All right. Show me.” She stood up and held out the poker to Regina. 

With a small, escaping smile, Regina came to her side and instead of taking it she placed her hand on top of hers, holding the iron rod together. She guided her back to the dying embers. “Like this.” She placed her other hand at the small of Emma’s back. 

The simplicity of the gestures, entirely innocuous, should not have produced the shock that passed through them both, but as their eyes met, seeing their reflection in the other, as a pair of mirrors would create infinity, they knew that they both had felt something. 

And the logs ignited a moment later. 

Behind them, unnoticed, another moment was heating up, significantly more volatile. Adam had finally gotten into it with Karen. Steven was holding him back, just as visibly angry, but twice as controlled. Brian, Zach, and Greg were a human wall in the middle, refusing to flinch as Karen went off, lecturing passionately about the sanctity of marriage and the governing laws between church and state. Somehow, she thought she was the one being persecuted. 

Slowly letting go of Emma, stepping back, Regina looked at the fire and back at her again. “It appears... you didn’t need my help, after all.” 

“It does look that way,” Emma muttered, staring in return, her jaw running slack. 

They were both thinking the exact same thing and, for entirely different reasons, neither would dare admit it aloud. 

This had to be a trick of the imagination. The product of improper sleep. At the very least, a simple coincidence. Surely.

“I, umm…” Emma started, dropping the poker as though it had become too heavy. Reality was crashing in around them. People were starting to yell. Karen was looking like she might soon self-immolate. Adam wasn’t backing down. 

“Just because your husband couldn’t stand you, doesn’t mean--” 

“No! You don’t get to speak about that.” She pointed at them all. “None of you do.” And she turned away, snatching up her things. 

“...Maybe,” Emma mumbled, clearing her throat, looking suddenly shy. “Maybe it’s actually not a good idea to leave Henry alone tonight. With Karen the way she is.” 

Stomping off to the camp, Karen looked miserable but hardly like one to harm a child. Regina fought the feeling that told her Emma was rejecting her. They had been, perhaps, moving too fast to be safe. Baby steps were good. “I’ll stay with Henry. You can have the cabin.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the key. 

But Emma was shaking her head. “You’ve got a sore shoulder.” 

“It’s fine now.” It wasn’t. Riding Hance rapid had actually made it worse.

“You can’t lie to me, Regina.” Emma said, smiling faintly. “Besides, it’s called the Queen’s cabin. It’s meant to be.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** ******CHAPTERS 7-9 ARE BEING REVISED*******  
**   
** **********UPDATES SOON TO COME************  
**   
** **THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR PATIENCE****

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [I'm Her Wife [Art]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20499506) by [rexinasofia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexinasofia/pseuds/rexinasofia)


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